Illogically Logical
by boasamishipper
Summary: Sherlock Holmes AU of Legend of Korra, with Sherlock!Asami and Watson!Bolin. Cases they solve are either concurrent with the show, Conan Doyle's original ones, or my own. May contain triggering content. Cover Credits go to Hopiamanipopcorn from deviantART.
1. Prologue

**Sherlock Holmes AU of Legend of Korra, with Sherlock!Asami and Watson!Bolin. Cases they solve are either concurrent with the show, Conan Doyle's original ones, or my own. May contain triggering content.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything.**

**Cover Credits go to Hopiamanipopcorn from deviantART. **

Illogically Logical by boasamishipper

Prologue

_His hands were streaked with crimson, splashing scarlet droplets onto his uniform. A horrible pain shot through his heart as he caught a glimpse of the gaping wound in his commanding officer's chest. The blood was dark and glistening, soaking the fabric of the man's uniform and was beginning to turn the sand a sick shade of red underneath him._

_Bolin fell to his knees next to the lieutenant, pressing as hard as he could on the wound. The man flinched and groaned beneath him. "Sir?" he asked, his voice loud over the sound of gunfire. "Lieutenant Chouko, can you hear me?"_

_Chouko's eyes opened the merest fraction of a centimeter. "D-Doc?" he croaked, his voice so quiet that Bolin had to strain to hear him. "H-how…how bad—"_

"_Stay still," Bolin ordered, pressing harder. "Corporal, get me my bag…Sir, we're going to get you out of here, alright? Just stay still and let me treat your wound."_

_The corporal tossed Bolin his medical bag, and Bolin immediately set to work, ripping the lieutenant's shirt open and wrapped the wound carefully, feeling safe knowing that the men were watching his back. Besides, the wound had missed the vital organs and arteries, and had even gone straight through the lieutenant's body._

_Ironically, this had been the most luck they'd had all day._

"_Save…the other men," the lieutenant slurred. "Let me die—I'm…n-not worth it—"_

"_All due respect, sir, shut the fuck up," he said sternly. "You're not dying, not on my watch."_

_Chouko nodded, and Bolin nodded too, continuing to treat the wound. The lieutenant couldn't die. They'd already lost Sergeant Hiroshu, and Corporal Yuhan, and even Private First Class Riya Sami, who had barely gotten out of commando training when a sniper had gunned her down._

_Bolin had lost good men and women, but he wasn't about to lose the lieutenant._

_Suddenly, the corporal yelled from behind right as Bolin felt a stabbing pain in his left shoulder. _Bullet wound, _he knew immediately. _Damn. It hit the collarbone. Shit, shit…

"_Doc," groaned Chouko, and Bolin looked up, his heart thudding in his chest as more blood was welling from the wound, but how could that be?_

_And then realization struck Bolin like a bolt of lightning. The first bullet had ended up hitting an artery after all. Chouko was bleeding out._

No. No, it couldn't be happening.

"_S'okay," the lieutenant murmured, his face grey. Bolin frantically shook his head in denial as blood trickled from his shoulder and from Chouko's chest wound. "Don't…worry…about me, D-Doc…"_

"_No…you aren't dying on me, Lieutenant, you aren't dying on me, damnit!"_

"_It's okay," the lieutenant said softly, taking a rattling breath and closing his eyes._

_Bolin held his breath, hoping, praying that he was just dreaming. This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't…_

"_S-sir?" The corporal's voice trembled. "Is…is he?"_

_Bolin pressed two fingers to the lieutenant's throat. No pulse. He rested his head on the man's chest, already knowing that there wasn't a heartbeat._

_Lieutenant Chouko was dead._

_He moved into place without thinking and started compressions, counting under his breath and trying desperately to keep a steady rhythm. After a moment, Bolin leaned down and pinched Chouko's nose shut, tilting his head to open his airway and breathing for him. He gave him another breath, his head spinning, and checked the lieutenant's pulse._

_Nothing._

_And he kept pressing._

_What felt like an hour later, Bolin's shoulders ached and his arms were numb. He didn't know where he had the strength to keep doing CPR. He wasn't about to give up, after all. He never had before, and wouldn't now._

_Maybe they'd even have a good laugh about this later, because Chouko was going to start goddamn breathing _right fucking now_…_

"_Doctor..." The corporal. Bolin didn't dare stop. "Sir, he's gone. You—you need to stop. You n-need to get your shoulder medical attention—"_

"_I'm not gonna let him die!" Bolin snarled, and he would've whacked the corporal over the head if he had any strength left and if his shoulder didn't hurt so much._

"_He's already __dead, Bolin__!" the corporal shouted at him. "He's dead..." The man took a long, ragged breath, reminding Bolin of Chouko's last breath—but that was impossible, because the lieutenant wasn't…he wasn't…_

_Bolin finally looked down, stopping the compressions. His commanding officer was gray and motionless. There was no more blood trickling out of his wound._

_Because Chouko was __gone._

_He could deny it and he could fight it and he could delude himself, but it didn't change the truth._

_The truth was that Lieutenant Chouko was lying dead on the ground in the middle of an Earth Kingdom war zone and there was no medical help, no measures that could bring him back. It was too late._

_It was too late._

"Dr. Lieng."

Bolin's head shot up, his hand flying to his belt where his service pistol would usually be before remembering that he was home. He was safe. He was having a recommended session with his therapist. His heart still pounded heavily, his mind still lost in the horrible memory.

He'd seen it a thousand times before. So many times that Bolin could recite the day by heart, recall every heartbeat and every gunshot he'd heard. He could recall too much and not enough at the same time. He remembered a nurse treating his shoulder wound, and how Corporal Takumi had had to pry him away from Chouko's body.

"You have suffered a terrible tragedy, it's true," his therapist said gently. His therapist was a young woman, barely into her thirties. He knew that she was just trying to help, but she couldn't help him. No one could. "But you _survived._ You have your whole life ahead of you to forget that one day, Dr. Lieng."

There was silence. "The problem with surviving, Doctor," Bolin stated quietly, "is that you end up with the ghosts of everyone you'd ever left behind riding on your shoulders." He remembered Riya, and Yuhan, and Hiroshu, and Chouko—he'd let down all of them. "I lied to my commanding officer and told him that we were going to get him out of here."

"Would you have?"

"Of course," Bolin snapped, almost offended at the insinuation. "Of course we would have. His wound was fatal from the beginning. The bullet penetrated the chest wall and damaged his right lung, along with hitting an artery. Chouko died, choking on his own blood from two bullets to the chest—and the worst part, Doctor, was that I had the nerve to tell a dying man who _knew _that he was dying, that he was going to be okay." His hands automatically clenched into fists.

"_You're not dying, not on my watch."_

He'd lied.

"You're an army doctor," his therapist was saying calmly. Apparently she'd changed the subject. Bolin made an effort to listen—he _was_ paying fifty yuans for this session, after all. "It's going to take you time to adjust to civilian life. But you can't adjust to it if you keep brooding on the past. What happened then…it isn't going to change what happens to you now. You can choose what happens to you now—you can be anyone you want to be, Dr. Lieng."

Bolin shook his head slowly, a pained chuckle erupting from his throat. "Doctor," he said, "I lost who I was when I let my commanding officer die three months ago. His wife was six months pregnant—how do you think that she felt when I had to tell her that I let her husband die?" He exhaled heavily, wanting to bury his face in his hands. "She hates me." He paused. "I hate myself."

She sighed. _Woman's obviously used to self-deprecation_, Bolin noted. _She _is _a therapist after all._ "Well, Dr. Lieng," she said, standing up, "I believe our session is up. I'll see you next week."

(*) (*)

Bolin had joined the United Forces about four months after his twenty-first birthday, wanting to help out his country and feeling that becoming a part of the military was the only way to do so. Unfortunately, his older brother Mako hadn't seen joining the army as a benefit—he'd seen it as a suicide wish, and still did. Deep down, he understood his brother's reluctance to accept his lifestyle: Bolin and Mako were orphans and had looked out for one another ever since the two were six and eight, respectively.

After breezing through the courses offered at the University of Republic City, Bolin had been recommended for commando training, and then had joined Lieutenant Chouko's six-person convoy—himself, the lieutenant, a sergeant (Hiroshu), one private first class (Riya), and two corporals (one being Yuhan, and the other having had a dishonorable discharge after a peace mission gone awry in the Southern Water Tribe). He'd liked his line of work, especially being a doctor, because short of being a waterbender (Riya had been one, but she wasn't a healer), he was the only source of medical help that the ailing recruits could get during a crisis.

Right before his first tour in the Earth Kingdom, he, Yuhan and Chouko had been sitting in a bar, toasting to Riya and Hiroshu's memories when the corporal had suddenly (albeit being slightly drunk at the time) stated to every patron that since Bolin hailed from the Fire Nation on his mother's side, the Earth Kingdom on his father's side and currently lived in Republic City, the only suitable nickname for him had to be 'Three Continents'. Bolin had tried to dissuade it, of course, but Yuhan had been the type of man that exuded a certain charisma, making everyone believe his word was law.

Two weeks into the tour, Yuhan had died when one of their armored vehicles had hit a land mine, along with two others. Bolin and Chouko had miraculously come through relatively unharmed, although with three more men to bury.

The next few years had passed smoothly, and then Bolin turned twenty-eight right in the middle of his fourth tour, his second in the Earth Kingdom, which was the one where everything had gone to hell and had sent him home with an honorable discharge, a heavy dollop of survivor's guilt, a seriously scarred left shoulder, and no means to provide himself with other than his meager army pension.

Spirits, did the universe hate him.

After he'd been released from the hospital, the United Forces had provided him with a small room in an inn on the outskirts of the city, which he'd been living in for the last few weeks, doing dishes in exchange for food and applying for jobs at every hospital in a fifty mile radius.

Bolin knew, of course, for a fact that Mako would drop everything at a tip of a hat and help him, but refused to even entertain the notion, knowing that only one thing would come out of it. He would be forced to listen to an endless array of "I told you so's" from his older brother, and would be smothered in love and guilt and probably would end up working a desk job just like Mako, which would lead to him getting married and having a house in the suburbs with two kids—the white picket fence, puppy and apple pie dream.

This, as happy and pleasant as it sounded, was definitely not for him.

Definitely not.

So Bolin created a routine for himself—he'd wake up early each morning and sweep the inn, which would earn him a hearty breakfast from the elderly couple who owned it. He would then look carefully through the wanted ads in the newspapers and constantly had the radio turned to a station where the announcer, Shiro Shinobi, always listed job opportunities at the end of every hour. The few job opportunities he'd had were miserable, and definitely weren't appropriate for an "ex-squaddie with a messed up shoulder", which one of his bosses had said to him outright. He'd see his therapist, who despite her nagging was interesting to talk to, but had run out of money for her long ago. He went to sleep at ten o'clock each night, no matter what.

It wasn't much, but it was a schedule, and he loved schedules. They made him feel organized, like he had a reason to get out of bed in the morning.

He realized a long time ago that while his earthbending skills might've gotten him a job pro-bending in a minor circuit (or even a major one, if he was lucky), Bolin Lieng was, first and foremost, a doctor and a soldier—he didn't know how to be anything else, and it seemed as of late that he couldn't do either.

The elderly lady had sent Bolin on an errand one morning to a coffee shop, needing some of the grounds for her customers and had given him twenty-five yuans, five of which he spent on an excellent cup of coffee, which he gratefully drank at a small table near the door, still preferring even now to be able to make a quick exit if necessary.

Bolin felt eyes burning into the back of his head, and the hairs on his neck stood up while he tried to finish his drink, but was unable to do so. Aggravated, he whirled around on his stool, coming face to face with a young man, possibly in his early twenties, with a faded cap on his shaggy dark hair, which framed a narrow face with brown eyes and a wide smile. He was drinking an espresso, and for some reason this aggravated Bolin further. "What?" he snapped. "Is there a particular reason you're trying to burn holes into the back of my head?"

Instead of backing off, the stranger grinned. "I knew it!" The young man shook his head, grinning wider. "Lieng, right? Bolin Lieng?"

It'd been so long since anyone had called him something other than his rank or title that he almost told the stranger that he was mistaken. Bolin scrunched his eyebrows together, because he knew the man in front of him, he _did…_what was his name? Saki? Satoshi? "Skoochy?"

"Right-o!" Shun Nakamura, better known as Skoochy, nodded, gesturing at Bolin excitedly and grinning. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Bolin gave his old friend a small, although genuine, smile. "Yeah. Haven't seen you last since—"

"Since college, right?" When Bolin nodded, Skoochy continued, talking animatedly while taking sips of his drink in between sentences. "You look like shit, man."

Same annoyingly cheerful attitude and boyish behavior with the charming childlike grin that had had most of the females in their classes swooning. Skoochy really hadn't changed a bit. He shrugged, not taking offense because it was true and he knew it—he _did_ look like shit. "Yeah, I know what you mean," he said tightly.

"So, last I heard of you," Skoochy said, jabbing his pointer finger at Bolin while holding his coffee cup in another hand, "you were in the Earth Kingdom wearing a fancy uniform and getting shot at. What went wrong?"

Bolin chuckled dryly, fighting the urge to expose his shoulder but decided not to scare the other patrons of the shop. "Use your imagination, Skooch," he said sarcastically before coughing. "I got shot." Reflexively, his hand shot up to his shoulder and he scratched it awkwardly, and Skoochy gave him an understanding nod, leaning back in his chair.

"I guess your situation's all screwy then, huh?" Skoochy muttered and continued before Bolin could answer his rhetorical question. "Can't Mako help out?"

Bolin, who had been taking a sip of his coffee, choked and spluttered, causing Skoochy to leap around him and whack him on the back several times. By the time Bolin could breathe normally again, nearly everyone in the shop was staring at them.

_So much for not wanting to attract attention._

"Judging from that reaction, I'd say your darling brother hasn't offered—but I'm not an idiot," Skoochy quickly said, "so the obvious answer is that you, Bolin Lieng, are being a stubborn bastard as usual and have probably refused all aspects of help from the outside world."

"Not nearly as dramatic, Skoochy, but yeah." Bolin paused. "Spirits knows I can't afford Republic City on an army pension—maybe I can move out to the countryside or something."

Skoochy snorted. "Sure, Bolin. And you'll spend the rest of your life fulfilling your secret ambition of herding goats in the mountains. That'll happen."

"Well, what do you suggest?"

The young man shrugged and nonchalantly tossed the now-empty cup of espresso towards a trash can but accidentally hit a barista, who gave Skoochy the finger before picking up the cup and throwing it away. Snickering, Skoochy continued as if the conversation hadn't been interrupted. "Get a roommate. You know, rent an apartment with someone, just like back in college with me."

Bolin scoffed. "Get real, Skooch," he stated. "Who in their right mind would want someone like me as a roommate?"

Skoochy shook his head and chuckled thoughtfully, tapping his finger on his chin. "Well, what do you know?"

"What?" Bolin asked defensively, expecting Skoochy to make a comment about his wellbeing and not wanting to rely on someone, which was true. After all, the last person who'd relied on him had bled out in the middle of the desert…

"Nothing personal, Lieng," Skoochy assured him. "It's just that you're the second person who's said that to me today."

Well, _that _was unexpected. "Really?" Bolin asked suspiciously, wondering if Skoochy was playing a joke on him. "Who? Where can I meet him?"

Skoochy laughed. "Hold your horses, Lieng. First off, it's not a he, it's a she, and second of all, I don't think that you'll like her very much."

"Wait, why not?" Bolin inquired with a frown. "Skooch, I don't care if this woman is a serial killer—I've been living in a room smaller than a closet for the last few months and banging my head on the ceiling every time I sit up in bed. I need a place!"

"Let's just say that you might prefer a serial killer after meeting her." Skoochy shook his head again. "She's the type of gal that would test a poison compound on herself to see what happens. Not that she's suicidal or anything," he hastily amended. "What I mean is that she'd test it on herself so she could write a paper on it while heaving her guts up."

"She certainly _sounds_ suicidal," Bolin muttered under his breath. "Actually, Skooch, never mind. I don't care, man. Can you introduce me to her? I'll draw my own conclusions."

Skoochy snickered, taking Bolin's half-empty cup and draining it with a sigh, smacking his lips together. Bolin shot him the bird. "Draw your own conclusions," Skoochy repeated. "Lieng, you're just the same as I remember you—impulsive, crazy, and one of a kind." The young man craned his neck to see a clock on the adjacent wall of the shop before clucking his tongue. "You're in luck today, old chum. If I know her schedule by now, she's probably still in the morgue."

"Wait, _what _—?"

(*) (*)

After dropping off the coffee grounds to the elderly woman at the inn—who was glad to have it, albeit about an hour late—Skoochy hailed a taxi for the both of them, graciously allowing Bolin to enter before him. He was about to thank his friend when Skoochy mock-curtsied and took off his cap in a chivalrous gesture. Not caring that the cabbie and several passerby were staring at them, Bolin politely suggested for the young man to go to hell, along with flipping him off.

"Already been," was his response as Skoochy sat in the passenger seat of the cab. Bolin rolled his eyes, remembering that that had always been Skoochy's response when someone told him to go to hell. "Hello, sir," Skoochy stated, his tone much more polite. "Take us to St. Hokkaido hospital, please."

"Right away, sir," the cabbie replied, sounding eager to get rid of them. Bolin couldn't blame him, not after overhearing their antics.

_So…this woman…I wonder what she's like? Surely she can't be as bad as Skoochy described her—RCPD would've arrested her by now, wouldn't they? Apparently she works in a morgue—maybe a mortician? Or a medical examiner? That might work, actually…but would a medical examiner really try to experiment on herself? Would anyone?_

_Spirits, this woman must be insane._

_Wonder what she looks like…_

Bolin still hadn't made up his mind by the time the taxi had slid to a halt outside of the fairly large hospital. He couldn't help but smile up at it—he'd trained there for a few years back in college, along with Skoochy before the young man had dropped out. _Talk about déjà vu, _he thought, grinning, as Skoochy paid the driver a handful of yuans. "Have a great day, sir," Skoochy said before tilting his head at Bolin. "Hey, Lieng, you daydreaming over there? Let's get movin', she's not going to be there all day."

Bolin nodded, a bit embarrassed. "Right, sorry," he said apologetically, before exiting the taxi. Skoochy walked around the front doors, leading Bolin to the side of the brick building where a few surgeons were smoking cigarettes next to a faded red door. They nodded hello to Skoochy, but Bolin could feel them staring at him, judging him—_maybe I even knew a few of them back in medical school_, he assumed before blanching. _Oh, Spirits, what if one of them knows _Mako?_ Shit…_

"Just remember, Bolin," Skoochy told him as they rounded a corner in the dark, dimly lit hallway, "she's very…unconventional."

"Right, right, serial killer material," Bolin said offhandedly, not really paying attention—he was still stuck on the fact that one of the surgeons might know his brother. _Boy, that'd be some lecture._ "I get it, Skooch."

Reaching the end of a hallway, the young man put his hand on the doorknob and looked over at Bolin. "Don't say I didn't warn you, buddy," he said as he opened the door. Bolin rolled his eyes as they entered the room.

The morgue was a moderately sized, badly lit room with six slabs on it, all of which were occupied by naked, pale bodies, male and female alike. A plastic box full of rubber gloves rested on a shelf directly below a light switch. The large metal handle of the mortuary refrigerator was plainly visible from Bolin's position right by the door. Desks of all sizes were scattered all over the room, each holding a plethora of embalming tools, hairdryers, petri dishes, Bunsen burners, and several scalpels and other tools—including, Bolin noticed with surprise, a riding crop dangling from the handle of the mortuary refrigerator.

Skoochy was looking around also. "Hey!" he called, cupping his hands over his mouth. "You in here?"

The breath nearly left his lungs as the door to the mortuary refrigerator swung open, and a pale young woman with long, dark hair walked briskly out of it wearing a lab coat and protective goggles, holding a carton of test tubes and almost absolutely drenched in blood.

"Spirits, are you okay?" Bolin asked incredulously, fighting the urge to examine the woman for any internal or external injuries. What the hell had transpired inside of that refrigerator? He glanced at Skoochy, who seemed unperturbed. Was Bolin hallucinating the blood? What was going on here?

"In answer to your question," the woman said curtly, "the blood isn't mine. It's a collaboration of the blood of Mr. Lee, slab two, and from old Mrs. Jiao, over on slab four. I'm using it to see how many different species and subspecies of germs have taken root since time of death. Using a syringe was too dull, and I need blood from all over the body, so I whacked the bodies until they caved in with my riding crop."

"You beat dead bodies with a riding crop, just for a blood test?" Bolin asked, his eyes wide and his tone unbelieving.

"Yes, well, it isn't as if they'll be needing their blood anymore, is it?" she replied. Bolin's mouth opened and closed. "Thought so." She quickly took off her lab coat and protective goggles and tossed them on one of the naked bodies on slab number three. The woman walked over to a table and placed the carton on a desk while using an eyedropper to squeeze a few drops of the blood—arterial, Bolin noticed, taking note of the dark, nearly black hue—onto a petri dish. She glanced across at them briefly before walking over to the two, stopping a foot in front of them. "Skoochy, you're back again, I see."

"Yep. This is an old friend of mine, Dr. Bolin Lieng," Skoochy introduced, and Bolin nodded politely, still wondering what the hell was wrong with this woman.

"Good to meet you," she said, sticking her hand out and shaking Bolin's in a surprisingly strong grip before releasing it. From this close, Bolin could see her bright green eyes, a few shades lighter than his own. "Hmm. Which was it, Earth Kingdom or Northern Water Tribe?"

Bolin frowned, glancing at Skoochy, who was smiling knowingly. "I'm…I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me." She sounded like she was speaking to a child—and certainly not a very bright one. "Where did you just come from? Earth Kingdom or Northern Water Tribe. It's a simple question, Dr. Lieng, do try and keep up."

Bolin hesitated, looking over again at Skoochy, who continued to grin. "Er…the Earth Kingdom. How did you k—"

"I play the violin occasionally," the woman interrupted, now with her back to them as she continued to analyze the blood and took furious notes with her left hand. "And I usually have chemicals about, would that bother you? Potential roommates do need to know the quirks about one another. So, Dr. Lieng, what do _you_ have to confess?"

"I—wait, what?" Bolin asked, now completely confused. "Skoochy, you, uh, told her about me?"

Much to his surprise, the young man shook his head, still smiling. "Nope, not a thing."

"Then who said anything about roommates?"

"I did. Told Skoochy this morning quote-unquote that I wondered if anyone in their right mind would rent an apartment with me, and now here he is with an old friend from college who clearly just returned from…just under ten years of military service for the United Forces, and was last stationed in the Earth Kingdom, most definitely the Si Wong Desert."

"How do you know about the Earth Kingdom?" Bolin demanded. It wasn't as if he was dressed in uniform or carrying his service pistol—how in the world had she guessed that he'd come from the Si Wong Desert?

She ignored the question, walking towards a coat rack near the back of the room and put on a trench coat, turning up the collar of it. "I've been considering a nice place near central Republic City. Together we can afford it. Meet me there tomorrow at five o'clock."

Bolin smiled tightly, looking at Skoochy for help, but the young man looked like he was watching the premiere of his favorite mover or the first pro-bending game of the season. "We don't know anything about each other," he said evenly. "I don't know where we're meeting, I don't know your age, what you do for a living—hell, I don't even know your name, and we're just going to rent an apartment together?"

The woman studied him closely before beginning to speak, her words fast but concise. "I know that you're an army doctor, honorably discharged from about seven or eight years of service in the United Forces. I know that you haven't been sleeping well, had a strong bout of pneumonia when you were younger and have survivor's guilt—and I know quite obviously that we have a mutual acquaintance in Skoochy Nakamura." She paused. "That's enough to get along on for now, isn't it?"

She walked to the door, opened it and suddenly looked back. "The name's Asami Sato and we're meeting up at two twenty-one B as in barium Baker Street," she stated with a wink as she nodded a goodbye to Skoochy. "Afternoon, gentlemen."

Skoochy waved nonchalantly as the woman—Asami—swept from the room like a leaf in the wind. Bolin stared, dumbfounded, at his acquaintance, who crossed his arms across his chest. "I warned you," the young man said, clucking his tongue.

In response, Bolin collapsed onto an empty chair.

**To be continued…**

**-Boa :)**


	2. A Study in Ivory: Act One, Part 1

**Thanks to I'mgoingtohavetoprocessthis and Bolinlover123 for the reviews, Grz, Night and Wings, and Sora Kim for the follows, and jakenator16 and I'mgoingtohavetoprocessthis for the follows. I appreciate it.**

**Please enjoy this next chapter of Illogically Logical.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Cover Credits go to Hopiamanipopcorn from deviantART.**

Illogically Logical by boasamishipper

Act One, Part 1

"_I know that you're an army doctor, honorably discharged from about seven or eight years of service in the United Forces. I know that you haven't been sleeping well, had a strong bout of pneumonia when you were younger and have survivor's guilt—and I know quite obviously that we have a mutual acquaintance in Skoochy Nakamura." She paused. "That's enough to get along on for now, isn't it?"_

Bolin shook his head in disbelief, the events that had only occurred a few hours ago still running through his mind vividly and clearly. _Unbelievable_, he thought. _How the hell had she known all of those things about me?_

"…you going to order something, sir?" inquired a waiter who looked ready to snap. His eyes had dark circles underneath them, and a small bead of sweat trickled down his left temple—he'd probably been working for the last few hours on end, Bolin noted.

It took him a moment to realize that the waiter was speaking to him. "Oh." Bolin's ears turned red as he fiddled with the collar of his shirt. "Yeah—single malt whiskey, please."

He received his drink, thanked the waiter and took a small sip. Bolin's hand tapped out a relaxed pattern on the circular mahogany dinner table. Across from him, Skoochy—who had insisted on buying him dinner after the meeting with Asami Sato—was gratefully nursing a glass of red wine and ignoring the waiter's repeated attempts to see an ID. _She got everything right—even the damn pneumonia, how the hell did she know I had pneumonia when I was little? I don't even think _Mako_ remembers that! It's freaky…but at the same time, it's actually really cool…_

"Hey, Lieng!" he felt a sharp kick to his lower leg, and had to literally clench his teeth from going straight into what Hiroshu had liked to call his MacGyver reflex and kicking Skoochy back hard enough to shatter his knee. "Are you daydreaming over there?"

Bolin rolled his eyes. "Call it what you will, Skooch." He took a sip of the whiskey, relishing in the flavor. Spirits, he hadn't had a good drink in…how long? A year? Two years? "So, uh…" he coughed, trying to think of a topic to discuss that didn't involve raids, AK47's and medical jargon. Damn, was he out of practice with idle chit-chat. "Er, are you still in college, then?"

Skoochy laughed and pushed up the brim of his beige cap. "You wouldn't believe it, but I'm actually going into teaching now."

Bolin's eyes widened, because _that _was definitely something he had not expected. "You're joking."

"I'm Professor Nakamura, or, well, I'm _going _to be one soon," Skoochy explained, leaning back in his chair. "Teaching bright young pre-med students, like we used to be." He shuddered theatrically. "Spirits, I hate their sorry little guts."

Bolin chuckled, shaking his head as he imagined his young friend standing in front of a group of young students, fresh from high school, teaching about the human anatomy and how to properly stitch a wound. Spirits, he'd just have to attend a lecture later—and possibly take several pictures. "So that Asami chick," he found himself saying, much to his surprise, because he hadn't been planning on bringing up the woman from the morgue in their conversation. "She's a bit—"

"Crazy?" Skoochy suggested. "Psychopathic? All of the above?"

Bolin's brows furrowed. "I was going to go with eccentric, but I guess that works too." For some reason, he never thought that she exuded any psychopathic tendencies when they'd met, but yes, she was a bit weird. Which brought him back to the question of how the hell did she know about his time in the United Forces? "Tell me, Skoochy: exactly how this woman take one look at me and automatically know my life story?"

Skoochy smiled an odd little smile. "That's just part of her charm," he said. "You're not the first person that she's analyzed like that, Lieng. You remember Taka Rei? He was that stiff with the handlebar mustache in fifth hour?" When Bolin nodded, bemused at what one of their old classmates had to do with anything, Skoochy pressed on. "She managed to analyze him having a substance addiction by looking at the fingers on his left hand."

Bolin almost choked. "You're not serious."

"Do I look like I'm not serious, Lieng?" the young man countered before shaking his head. "Anyways, why do you ask?"

"Well…" Bolin rolled the word on his tongue for a few moments before deciding to blurt out what he'd been thinking about since he'd met Asami Sato. "It's like she said: Potential roommates do need to know the quirks about one another."

Skoochy, who'd been taking a sip of his red wine, spat his drink all over the table and began coughing ferociously, his face turning a deep shade of scarlet. "Oh my Spirits," he gasped, clenching the table and leaning forwards. "You can_not_ be serious, Lieng. This is a put-on, right?"

Bolin shrugged. "She's willing to share an apartment with me, Skooch, for Spirits' sake. And I'm curious as to how she…analyzed me, like you said. 'The only study worthy of mankind is of the opposite sex,'" he quoted, remembering the lieutenant having said that once_._ "Who knows, maybe we'll learn things about each other."

The young man shook his head, laughing now. He wiped off his side of the table with a cloth napkin. "Well, then, buddy boy, you better study her, and I'm willing to bet you any amount of yuans—and I do mean _any_ amount, Lieng—that she's going to learn a hell of a lot more about you in ten minutes than you'll learn about her in ten years."

The doctor laughed. "I'll toast to that." He raised his glass of whiskey, and Skoochy did the same with his glass of wine. "Here's to old friends, and a new life."

His friend grinned widely, teeth shining in the light of the restaurant. "Here's to the only man I've ever met willing to room with someone who beats dead bodies with a riding crop."

The two men clinked glasses and drank. "Cheers."

(*) (*)

The small apartment complex on Baker Street was charming and well-maintained, set straight onto a street past a simple iron fence. A garden filled with wilting irises and magnolias bloomed next to the building, adjacent to a small café. The address 221B was written on a door in large letters and shone gold in the evening light.

Bolin, who had just exited a taxicab, stared at the door in front of him and swallowed, looking around for the pale young woman with dark hair and green eyes and finding her nowhere. _Must be late, _he assumed, _or maybe she's inside…_

His hand was poised to knock when someone cleared their throat from behind him. "Good evening."

It took nearly all of Bolin's willpower not to flinch and reach for his gun, which he didn't have on him at the moment. He turned around calmly and placed both hands in the pockets of his light brown jacket. "Hello," he commented politely to Asami Sato, who was wearing the same dark trench coat with the turned-collar as last time. Her hair was swept up into a loose ponytail and her arms were crossed over her chest. "No blood this time?" he quipped before he could stop himself and braced himself to be insulted.

To his surprise, the corner of Asami's mouth quirked up in an interesting sort of half smile. "Astute observation, Dr. Lieng," she replied. "Last time I wandered out in the streets covered in a deceased person's blood, several passerby were…surprised, to say the least."

Bolin rolled his eyes. "No kidding."

They were silent for a few moments before Asami spoke up again. "You're probably thinking that by the state of the building and prime location in the city, the rate should be too high for the both of us to afford." It wasn't even a question, just a statement of fact. "Am I correct?"

His cheeks flushed, because that had been somewhat along the lines of what he'd been thinking. "Yeah, well, I—I, uh, haven't really—"

"Don't worry about it though, Dr. Lieng, we're getting a sort of…special discount," Asami explained, biting her lip as she knocked on the door and took a step back as the two of them waited for it to open. "Mrs. Shirui, the landlady—very sweet woman by the way—owes me a favor. A few years ago, her dear husband got hung up on the most awful sexual harassment charges over in Omashu. I was able to help out."

"Oh," Bolin said, unable to think of what else to say. "So, he was wrongfully accused and you helped him out?"

Asami chuckled, her laugh melodious and almost sweet. "No, no, Doctor," she said, shaking her head. "I never said he was wrongfully accused. See, the sentence back then in Omashu for sexual harassment was twenty years in prison. I _assured_ him getting thrown into Kabuki Federal."

Just as Bolin was about to ask Asami another question, the door swung open, and an older lady, possibly in her fifties or sixties appeared in the doorway. Her blonde hair was fading gracefully into grey, and the lines of crow's feet around her eyes were etched deeply, suggesting that she smiled a lot—which she was doing now. "Hello, Asami, dear," she exclaimed, positively beaming. Asami smiled back, hugging the old woman briefly. "Oh, do come in."

Asami led the way inside as Bolin walked in after her, admiring the inside of the building for a moment before following the dark-haired woman up the stairs to the first floor. As he reached the top of the staircase, she opened the door ahead of them and walked in; revealing a small, cozy living room with possessions and papers scatted around in it.

Despite the clutter, which he normally couldn't stand, it was a finer place than he'd had in a long time. "This could be nice," Bolin commented casually. "Very good indeed."

Asami nodded, taking a quick glance at Mrs. Shirui, who'd accompanied them up the stairs. "Yes, I think so. My thoughts exactly. I mean, I can straighten things up in here…a bit—"

"Oh…so, this is all of your stuff," Bolin said in disbelief, gazing around the messy and cluttered room until an object on the mantelpiece above the fireplace struck his attention. "Ms. Sato—"

"Asami," she instantly corrected him. "Asami, please."

"Right, um, Asami, is that—" he paused. "Is that a _real_ skull?"

"Hmm?" she turned around, holding some unopened envelopes, a takeout menu and a utility tool in her hands. "Oh, you mean Tougu. Yes. Belonged to an old friend of mine—well, when I say _friend_…" She grinned, and Bolin was genuinely fearful for his safety for a moment when he realized that she wouldn't attack an unarmed man, especially with an old woman in the room.

_Dear Spirits, when did I become afraid of a girl?_

"What do you think, Dr. Lieng?" inquired Mrs. Shirui briskly before suddenly winking. "There's another bedroom on the second level if you'll be needing it…"

Bolin was bemused for a split second before suddenly realizing that the landlady had assumed that he and Asami were together. His brows furrowed, he responded slowly and clearly, "Of _course_ we'll need two, Mrs. Shirui."

"Yes, well, you never know." Mrs. Shirui shrugged and gestured for Bolin to bend down, which he did. "I do wish she'd find herself a nice man," she whispered, "but her little…quirks…are hard to get used to, aren't they, Doctor?"

Bolin opened his mouth and suddenly closed it, wondering for the life of him why he was discussing Asami Sato's love life with their landlady. "…I, um, er….erm…just…no? I mean…yes…I'll, um, just shut up now," he mumbled, his face flushed in embarrassment as he plopped down in an armchair right next to the fireplace.

Mrs. Shirui let out a small chuckle and picked up a recycling bin, balancing it on her hip and walked into the kitchen, muttering something under her breath. "…what a mess, honestly…" Bolin heard her say as their landlady deposited several dishes into the full sink with a clatter and then returned into the room, holding a crumpled newspaper.

"Asami, dear, what about these homicides?" she asked, holding up the newspaper as Asami stared out the window, her trench coat on the floor. "Seems like they'd be right up your alley."

"Yes, indeed," Asami responded offhandedly, still gazing out the window. "Very much up my alley."

_Homicides? Up her alley?_ _What in the world does Asami Sato do for a living?_ "Can I just inquire as to what your 'alley' is?" Bolin asked, leaning forward in his chair in interest.

Asami turned around and looked as though she was about to tell him exactly what her alley was when a woman with dark grey hair, piercing green eyes, chiseled features, and decked out in a police uniform entered the living room, leaning on the doorframe. "I won't waste pleasantries," the stranger said in a hard voice, "so I'll just come right out and say it—"

"Yes, yes, there's been another murder," Asami stated, one hand on her hip as the other arm dangled by her side. "Where this time?"

"It's on Niwa Garden Way, near the Republic City Park." She paused. "Are you coming or aren't you?"

Asami tapped her chin in thought, obviously enjoying keeping the woman hanging. She bit her lip and tilted her head to the side. "I need an assistant," she remarked nonchalantly. "Who's working on forensics today?"

"Saikhan."

She groaned in disgust, rubbing her forehead in exasperation. "I can't work with that…" Asami took a quick glance at Mrs. Shirui, who was humming a happy tune while she picked up some papers off of the hardwood floor, and bit back an insult. Bolin fought the urge to laugh. "Well, you know I can't work with that idiot. I _need_ an assistant." Her piercing gaze suddenly landed on him, and he almost flinched. "Dr. Lieng."

"Asami Sato," Bolin responded cheekily, hoping to garner a smile from her and failing. He coughed awkwardly. "Um, yes?"

"You're an army doctor. You've seen a lot of gore and violence, haven't you?" she inquired, taking a step closer to him. "Horrid deaths, blood, someone being strangled with their small intestine…"

_His hands were streaked with crimson, splashing scarlet droplets onto his uniform. A horrible pain shot through his heart as he caught a glimpse of the gaping wound in his commanding officer's chest. The blood was dark and glistening; soaking the fabric of the man's uniform and was beginning to turn the sand a sick shade of red underneath him…_

"Yes," he whispered, thinking of Chouko's gasping, final breaths and Yuhan getting blown up and how the corporal had had to pry him away from the lieutenant's still body. "Yeah, I have."

"Excellent. I've found my assistant." She turned back around to face the woman. "We'll follow behind in a taxi and meet you at the scene. Don't alert Saikhan of my arrival, his face turns the most interesting shade of puce when I show up to crime scenes."

Bolin spluttered nonsensically as the stranger gave Asami a curt nod, shot him a death glare and exited the room. He waited for Mrs. Shirui to go back into the kitchen and for the door of the building to slam shut before he exploded at Asami. "Have you lost your mind?"

"No, I don't believe so," she said, putting on her trench coat and grinning. "Oh, it's Christmas—an unanswerable homicide and I get to piss off Saikhan. It's a good day today." Asami paused. "Do buck up, Doctor. I wouldn't have chosen you for the job if you weren't qualified."

"Thanks ever so," Bolin retorted sarcastically. "Why on earth would you want me to join you on a crime scene, Asami? I'm an army doctor—"

Asami pointed at him as if he'd discovered the secrets of the world. "And that's just why I want you there. Saikhan is incompetent and I can't work with him. You, on the other hand, I can work with."

"Who are you?" he demanded. "What do you do, Asami? Why do the police come to you for help?"

She stared at him like he was something revolting stuck to the bottom of her shoe. "The police," she said, "come to me for help whenever they're out of their element, which happens to be always. I'm a consulting detective, the only one in the world."

"A…consulting detective," Bolin said slowly, running it through his mind. "And tell me, Ms. Sato, what does a consulting detective do?"

"I consult, Dr. Lieng," she replied with the air of explaining to a toddler that two and two made four. "I would've thought that that was plainly obvious. And call me Asami, please."

He sighed noisily, wanting to hit himself over the head with something heavy. _I see what Skoochy meant, this chick is insane._ "Fine," he said, because really, he didn't have anything better to do, and it _would _be right up his alley. "_Asami._ I'll come with you, _Asami._"

"That's my name, don't wear it out," Asami answered in a sing-song voice as she paraded down the stairs, Bolin right behind her.

He felt like he'd just witnessed the birth of the next Avatar or something as equally miraculous. "Oh my Spirits," he said, his eyes wide, "did you just make a _joke_? That can't possibly have happened."

"Who cares about impossibilities?" she inquired, whirling around towards him once they were outside. Her eyes were bright with excitement and she grinned. "The game, Dr. Lieng, is on!"

He couldn't help but laugh at her attitude. _That's got to be the most…normal…I've ever seen her at, even if she _is _talking about a horrible murder. Everyone does have their quirks._

_Oh my Spirits, I'm actually defending her. Why the hell am I defending her? She's crazy! She's a consulting detective! She has a _skull _on her mantelpiece! What in the name of Tue and La is wrong with me?_

Asami walked out onto the street and hailed an approaching black taxicab, whistling a happy tune under her breath as they both entered the vehicle. "Take us to Niwa Garden Way, please," she said sweetly, her tone much like Skoochy's had been the other day. _I bet that's where he learned it from, too._

"Of course, ma'am," replied the cabbie, beginning to drive down the street. "Any place on the way in particular? Perhaps the Risha Deli?" He waggled his eyebrows, and Bolin instantly remembered that the Risha Deli was where all the young couples went on their first dates. He'd gone there once in high school…_ah, Miki Akan, I remember you. We'd had a blast after the crème Brule…_

"Actually, we're going to go to the crime scene, sir," Asami said, her voice so sugary and fake it could've given Bolin a zit. "I heard there was a nice, juicy murder and I just _had _to check it out."

"Ah." The cabbie was silent for a moment. "Of—of course. The crime scene. L-lovely."

As the car sped down the road, Asami took a quick look over at Bolin, who was staring at his feet and reminiscing still about the Risha Deli. "I assume you still would like to know how I knew about your military service in the Earth Kingdom."

"Yes," he said. _I swear she's got to be psychic or something._ "Uh, how _did_ you know, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I didn't know, Doctor, I simply observed. Your haircut and posture clearly exuded military, and Skoochy introduced you as a doctor, and then I thought, must be a soldier, he is obviously a medical man, thus—army doctor." She paused. "Shall I go on?"

Bolin nodded fervently, hoping he didn't look like too much of an idiot. "Yes, please. How'd you know I was discharged? I could've quit."

"You were wounded in your shoulder, weren't you?" When Bolin nodded, she pressed on. "Yes, I assumed so. You don't walk with a limp or a cane or use a wheelchair, so you couldn't have been shot in the leg or the back. I did notice you wincing slightly as you gripped the railing on the staircase when you were coming up, so I wondered if perhaps you'd gotten shot in the shoulder—your left one, of course. You obviously enjoyed the military, having been in it for so long, so you wouldn't have quit—thus, discharged. But you don't seem like a fellow who would've gotten himself a dishonorable discharge, add your shoulder wound into the mix and I figured you'd been honorably discharged.

"I struggled a bit with the Earth Kingdom versus Northern Water Tribe, because they're the only continents at war right now. I was going to go and say Water Tribe, but then I noticed that you had a suntan, and obviously the Northern Water Tribe doesn't get too much sun—thus Earth Kingdom. Si Wong Desert is the biggest war zone, so it wasn't much of a shot in the dark to assume you'd been stationed there. The trinket on your wrist, the metal bracelet with the national emblem of the Earth Kingdom dangling from it also clued me in. The time you spent there was, believe it or not, a lucky guess."

The corner of her mouth quirked up again as she continued. "The rest of it was easy from there. Dark circles under your eyes—obviously you haven't been sleeping well. I assume nightmares, and since you're a doctor, an army doctor, I'm going to take it one step further and say that you're dreaming of the men that you failed to save—ergo, survivor's guilt. The pneumonia was deduced by the slight shallowness to your breath—it was serious, and you were younger, but not _too_ young, so I'd say when you were ten or eleven years old. Now, Doctor," her voice grew mischievous. "Must I really explain as to how I knew that we have a mutual acquaintance in Skoochy Nakamura?"

Bolin's mouth opened and closed several times in awe. "That," he said, choosing his words carefully, "was amazing."

Asami, much to his surprise, actually looked taken aback…and slightly flattered. _Had no one ever complimented her before or something?_ "You…you really think so?"

Bolin raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me? Asami, that was incredible." He paused. "Has no one ever told you that?"

"Spirits, no," she immediately responded, shaking her head. "No, er, they usually just tell me to fuck off."

Bolin let out a surprised bark of laughter just as the cab pulled up to a small house right on the corner of Niwa Garden Way surrounded by caution tape, police officers and flashing sirens of the police cars. "Thanks," she said, paying the cabbie a handful of crumpled yuans before exiting the vehicle along with Bolin.

Asami smiled. "Well, Dr. Lieng," she said, "welcome to your first crime scene."

**To be continued…**

**-Boa :)**


	3. A Study in Ivory: Act One, Part 2

**Thank you to TheKookieKing11 for your review, favorite, and follow, I-dont-like-pen-names for your favorite, Random Zaku Pilot for your review and follow, Jet Long for your favorite and follow, surfergirl15 for your follow, and Kirazin for your review and follow. I appreciate it.**

**Please enjoy this next chapter of Illogically Logical.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Cover Credits go to Hopiamanipopcorn from deviantART.**

Illogically Logical by boasamishipper

Act One, Part 2

"_Open up!" Bolin yelled, pounding furiously on the door of a small tavern. Sergeant Kimiri was supporting Corporal Takumi, whose eyes were glassy. A bandage had been hastily wrapped around his side, where a sniper had gotten him with a bullet. Yuhan had driven them as fast as he could through the rugged terrain, trying to make it hastily to another town where the corporal could receive better medical support than Bolin could provide in the field._

_Of course, none of them had factored that the damn so-called 'New Freedom Fighters' would decide to stage an air raid right at that _second.

"_Come on, open up already, damn it!" Bolin repeated, banging on the door with his fist before sending a hopeless look to Chouko, who looked solemn. "Sir, they aren't—"_

"_I know they aren't, Doc," Chouko said heavily, taking a look over at Kimiri and Takumi. "Kimiri, how's Takumi?"_

"_Not doing so well, sir," she responded, shifting on her heels in order to support him better. "We need to get him to safety otherwise infection will set in and…" The unspoken threat of death hung ominously in the air._

_Takumi took quick breaths, his face pinching with pain. "L-Lieutenant…d-didn't…want to…g-go like—like this…don't…wanna d-die…please, Spirits…I don't w-wanna die—"_

"_You're not dying," Chouko said sharply. When Takumi began to shake his head, the lieutenant held up a hand in protest. "That's an _order, _Corporal."_

"_Y-yes…sir…"_

"_Damnit, Lieng, move out of the way," ordered Chouko, shoving the earthbender out of the way and pulled out a gun. Out of reflex, Kimiri, Yuhan and Bolin all took several quick steps back. Not hesitating, Chouko pulled the trigger, causing the doorknob to explode, sparks flying in every direction. The lieutenant kicked open the door with all of his strength, causing the few residents inside to scream in terror._

"_We aren't with the New Freedom Fighters," he immediately assured them, gesturing for the rest of the squad to come in, which they did, albeit carefully and with their hands in the air. "I'm Lieutenant Kai Chouko, United Forces. These are my men—and woman," he added cheekily just as Kimiri shut the door behind them. "This man's injured, and he needs to get him someplace stable for surgery. Doc, you think you can fix him up here?"_

_Bolin nodded, almost offended. Of _course_ he could. "Supplies are almost out though, gonna have to replenish them when we get back to base," he said. "As for now, it's a standard procedure. I need a penknife, some dental floss, a sewing needle, and—"_

_The rest of his words were cut off by the loud screech of an air raid siren, along with the screams of civilians hiding under the tables inside the tavern._

"_And a fifth of whiskey!" he shouted, trying to make himself heard over the commotion. "Now!"_

Bolin winced at the shrill noises of the sirens blaring and fought the urge to squint against the bright lights of the police cars, which absolutely surrounding the small residential house on the corner of Niwa Garden Way. Even though he'd been discharged for more than three months now, he still couldn't shake the urge to duck and cover whenever he heard police cars coming down the street—the doctor couldn't help but think of that fateful day in the tavern and many others, when his unit had narrowly escaped the air raids.

"What the hell are you doing here?" The annoyed voice made his head shoot up just in time to see Asami give a balding, paunchy-faced man a dirty look.

"Ah, Captain Saikhan," Asami sighed, one hand on her hip as she rubbed her forehead with the other in a common expression of annoyance. "A pleasure as always. If you must know, we're here to see Chief Beifong."

Saikhan rolled his eyes. "And why in the name of Tue and La did Chief Beifong invite you to a crime scene?"

"I think she wants me to fix the victim's piano," she retorted, sarcasm fairly dripping off her words. "Do use your imagination, Captain. Even I know that you're not quite as stupid as that."

Offended, Saikhan opened his mouth to retaliate, and then caught sight of Bolin. "Um, who's this?"

"This is Dr. Lieng," Asami said patronizingly, looking down her nose at the captain. "He's a…colleague of mine. Dr. Lieng, it is my distinct displeasure to introduce you to Captain Saikhan, living proof that Neanderthals still inhabit the Four Nations."

Bolin nearly choked on his laughter, but managed to nod in greeting at Saikhan, who still looked like he'd gotten up on the wrong side of the bed that morning. "What, did he follow you home or something, Sato?"

Before Bolin could tell the captain off—with a few curse words thrown in for good measure—the same older woman from earlier walked over to them, shaking her head in exasperation. "About time you showed up, Asami," she stated, her words clipped and to the point. "And you brought your friend too, I see."

"Ma'am." Bolin nodded, standing up straight but still felt extremely uncomfortable, like the woman's eyes could see into his soul. He stuck out his hand. "Good to meet you."

"Likewise, Doctor," she responded curtly, shook his hand with a firm grip and released it. "Captain Saikhan, we have a job to do here, so I suggest that we should just get on with it."

"But Chief Beifong," whined Saikhan, obviously unaware that he sounded like a petulant toddler, "she did—"

"I don't care what she did," snapped Beifong, a warning tone clearly embellished in her voice. Saikhan gulped. "Our priority right now is to figure out who killed this victim, and we will use _whatever_ means necessary in order to do so. Am I understood, Captain?"

Saikhan nodded, sending a death glare at Asami before skulking off, muttering curse words under his breath.

"Right." Asami clapped her hands together, causing Bolin to flinch. "If the drama is over, then I believe that we have a murder victim?" Out of her pocket, she pulled a pair of blue latex gloves, which she handed to him. "Doctor, please put these gloves on," ordered Asami, which Bolin did, a bit bemused. He flexed his fingers a few times before he looked back up, saw Beifong and Asami several steps ahead of him, and followed the two women towards the house.

"I can give you five minutes, Asami, and that's it," Beifong said brusquely, opening the front door. "Think you'll be able to figure out the victim's life story by then?"

A muscle twitched in Asami's jaw even as she arched her neck as proudly as any racehorse. "Of course I can," she replied, her tone disbelieving as though the woman had asked her whether or not the sky was blue. Bolin fought the urge to snicker and instead shoved his hands into his coat pockets. _Talk about pride issues…_

Beifong sauntered down the hallway and led the two up a short flight of stairs. Just before they reached the landing, Bolin grabbed Asami's arm, causing her to whirl around in surprise. "What am I doing here?" he whispered furiously. "Really, what the hell am I here for?"

Asami looked taken aback for the briefest of seconds before her attitude became nonchalant once more. "You're helping me make a point."

"Helping you make—Asami, there is a person lying _dead_ in that room over there," Bolin exclaimed, gesturing to the small room that Beifong was standing impatiently by.

"That's an astounding observation, Doctor, but I was hoping that you'd try and probe deeper," Asami retorted, wrenching her arm out of Bolin's grip and ambled casually into the room. Bolin gritted his teeth—_why the hell did I bother coming with her again?_—and followed her a few seconds later.

The moment he set foot inside the modernly-furnished bedroom, Bolin's nose instantly wrinkled at the sour, rancid stench of dried blood mixed with the acrid scent of old perfume. His eyes were immediately drawn to the large, grisly letters spelling 復仇 across the wall adjacent to him, Asami and Beifong, along with the dead body.

The victim, who was a young man in his early to late forties, lay in the fetal position with twisted limbs and his face screwed up in pure, undiluted agony. His clothes, which were dark pants, a short-sleeved white shirt soaked with blood and an ivory sash tied around his waist, were an offset to his pale skin and spiky black hair, meaning that the victim was most likely from the Fire Nation. He'd need to take a closer look to be sure, of course…

Asami was staring at the victim with an extremely perplexing look on her face as she paced back and forth around it, occasionally squatting down and inspecting the body's clothing. "I'm dissatisfied, Beifong," she finally stated, looking around the room as if searching for more evidence. "Too much is missing for anything to be conclusive."

Beifong's eyebrows rose. "Really, Asami? And here I was thinking that you'd find a wrinkle on the victim's toe that signified he'd been bitten by a radioactive bumblefly or something."

The corner of her mouth quirked upwards and then immediately downwards. Bolin turned around to see Saikhan leaning casually against the doorframe, obviously hoping to contribute something to the conversation. "Hello again. Thought you might need my—"

"Shut up, Saikhan, your voice is like fingernails on the chalkboard of my life," snapped Asami, kneeling next to the body again and effectively silencing the police captain. Beifong glared at Saikhan, gesturing for him to leave, which he did. "Dr. Lieng, what do you think about him?"

He was well and thoroughly caught off guard by the question. "Uh…about Saikhan?"

Asami looked disgusted, angry, relieved and amused all at once. Beifong grimaced, but it looked like she was trying to cover up a smirk. "Spirits_, _not about that incompetent fool. About the _body_. You're a medical man, I need your opinion."

"Hold on," Beifong interrupted, "why? There's a whole team of medical examiners right outside."

"You know just as well as I do that they won't work with me, Beifong," Asami retorted before sending another imploring look at Bolin. "I'm afraid that he's quite crucial to my deducing process. I need his opinion."

Bolin glanced at Beifong, because he wasn't stupid enough to touch a dead body without a police officer's permission, and the chief gave him a nod and said, albeit irritably, "Do as she says and by all means, help yourself. I'll be outside."

Bemused, Bolin walked over to the body and squatted down by it, taking note of the surroundings while he probed the victim's chest. _Blood splatter around the body and pooling—rigor mortis is starting to set in, he's only been dead for a few hours._ He checked under the eyelids. _Bloodshot, no hemorrhage, might've been drinking._ He lifted the victim's right hand and looking at the skin before turning back to Asami, who was leaning against the wall and looked like she hadn't a care in the world. "Been dead for a few hours, might've been drinking," he reported to the woman, "but he asphyxiated and choked on his own vomit. Could've been a seizure that did it, most likely drugs."

His new roommate gave him an inscrutable look. "Very good, Doctor."

Bolin's eye twitched. Asami had praised him in the kind of tone used when a pet did a clever trick. His eye roll was abruptly cut off by Beifong entering the room impatiently, a new officer on her tail with the name 'Song' embroidered on his uniform. "I said five minutes, Asami, it's been seven. What do you have?"

Asami's lips tilted upward into a smile—obviously, she'd been looking forward to sharing her thoughts since Beifong had left the room. "Victim is in his late forties. He's used to being outdoors, fit and very strong, smokes cigars, played kuai ball in his youth but had to stop due to a debilitating injury, had been drinking the night of his death, but his drink was drugged, and was married…along with having a newborn child."

Beifong cursed under her breath. "Oh, for Spirits' sake, Asami, if you're just making this up…"

Asami rolled her eyes, shooting Bolin an 'I-can't-believe-what-an-idiot-she-is' look. "Making this up? I don't _make things up,_ Beifong, as you well know. I _deduce._ Do engage your brain once in a while."

Feeling that he needed to intervene before more insults and blows were exchanged, Bolin spoke up, his tone incredulous. "How in the world did you figure all of that out?"

"Dear Spirits—what is it like in your empty little minds? It must be so dull," remarked Asami, beginning to pace around the room, gesturing wildly. "Somewhere out there a village must be missing its idiot…look. He's wearing hiking boots, splattered with dirt and grime that he doesn't bother cleaning, faded red shoelaces that he's fixed himself rather than get new ones. His leg muscles are firm, meaning he's done a lot of walking; add that to the hiking boots, meaning he's used to spending time outdoors."

"What if they aren't his, though?" Bolin asked curiously. "Maybe the killer put them on the victim?"

In response, Asami wrenched off the boot from the victim's foot, showing them all the inside of the shoe. Bolin tried not to wrinkle his nose at the odor. "These shoes have _clearly _been broken into. Now, if we're really going to go off onto the miniscule chance that the killer wears the same size shoes as the victim and decided to slip him on to avoid suspicion, our victim has the most common hiking injuries in the book right here—blisters on his foot, and Doctor Lieng, what do you call when the kneecap tracks?"

He started. "Er, patellofemoral syndrome."

"Yes, thank you, patellofemoral syndrome. He has that, cuts and scrapes right above his ankles—"

"Okay, fine," Beifong interrupted. "Okay. What else? How'd you know he smoked cigars?"

Asami dropped the boot and reached into her pocket, pulling out a cigar trimmer. "Found this in the right pocket of the victim's pants. If that's not obvious enough for you, the victim's fingers on his left hand, more specifically his thumb and pointer finger, allowed me to solve this oh-so-perplexing fact: his two fingers have yellow tobacco stains on them." She paused, letting that sink in. "As for the kuai ball injury, Doctor Lieng can testify that the victim has a rotator cuff tear in his shoulder. Judging by his Fire Nation ancestry, he's obviously played kuai ball, and he was probably pretty good at it. The injury is pretty old, as is the victim, so he probably got it during his youth."

Bolin couldn't hold it in any longer. "That's brilliant," he said admiringly. Asami gave him a bewildered look, and he instantly felt embarrassed. "Sorry. I—I'll shut up."

"No, it's…fine," muttered Asami, two spots of pink high on her cheekbones. _Did I actually embarrass her? She _did _say that no one really pays her compliments…but that was _amazing._ I'd give my left arm to be able to do that._ "A-Anyways, the victim is married, judging by the wedding ring on his finger—keeps it polished, obviously cares about his wife and loves her otherwise he probably wouldn't keep the ring in tip-top shape. Newborn is easily identified by the picture in his wallet," she stated, taking out the victim's wallet and showing Bolin, Beifong and Song the black-and-white image of an infant girl. "The picture's recent, meaning the baby is still a baby and not a teenage girl by now. He'd have kept more pictures of her if she was older, documenting a year at a time like some people do. The offspring doesn't really look like him though…might be a bastard, or just looks particularly like the mother—"

"And that's all well and good," Beifong stated, "but why is the word revenge written on that wall?"

"The killer obviously wrote it, Chief," Bolin chimed in. "Didn't he, Ms. S—er, Asami?"

"Thank you, Dr. Lieng, for being the only one in the room with the briefest semblance of common sense," replied Asami. "Of _course_ the killer wrote it. People don't normally write 'revenge' in blood for shits and giggles. 'An eye for an eye', or so to speak—"

"Wait, wait," interrupted Song. Bolin was annoyed, having really wanted to see what Asami's mind-blowing deductions would uncover next. "Hold on. If he went out to drink, then why is dressed like he's ready for an outdoor hike? Wouldn't he have worn a suit or something?"

Asami snorted. "Obviously, Officer Song, even to a simple mind belonging to someone like you, this man is from the Fire Nation. He's here on vacation, renting a room in this tenement house—or just to get away from his family. Thus, he just got off of the ship, didn't want to go to the hotel room and get himself dolled up, goes into a bar in his comfort clothing—which is the clothing that he's wearing now, to be clear—and buys a drink that he doesn't know is drugged, drinks it, and then dies a few hours later. Is that clear, Officer?"

"C-crystal, ma'am," stammered Song, taking a step backwards and looked ashamed that he'd even bothered opening his mouth.

"As I was saying, I don't know how, but it's murder, all of them. They're not only killings—they're _serial _killings. Same note of 'revenge', and same ivory sash tied around their waists. I love serial killers, don't you know? There's always something to look forward to…" Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Oh…" She frowned and she clapped her hands together. "_Oh!"_

"What is it, what?" Beifong asked immediately, her eyebrows shooting upwards. "Damnit, Asami, what is it?"

Asami whirled around to the officer standing next to Beifong, who trembled and looked like he wanted to piss himself. "Officer Song, did anyone try to approach the crime scene before the doctor and I arrived?"

"I…no…there—there w-was a d-drunk loiterer that was hanging around here for a few minutes after the body was discovered—b-but why does it matter?"

"Why does it matter?" Asami repeated, her tone disbelieving before she turned to Beifong. "I'm afraid, Chief Beifong, that your entire precinct needs to be replaced—the officer standing next to you could've earned his sergeant's stripes tonight if he'd been even the tiniest bit more watchful. The so-called 'drunk loiterer' was none other than the murderer himself."

Song looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die as Beifong shot him a glare. "Officer Song, get out of my sight," she spat, and the officer ran out the door. "Now what?" the chief asked with her hands on her hips. "Do you know who killed this man or not, Asami?"

"I don't," said Asami, "but I do know a person who might. Several people, actually. Doctor, follow me, if you please. Chief Beifong, have a pleasant evening." She hurried out of the room, her hair flying behind her as she ran down the hallway. A few seconds later, he heard the unmistakable sound of a door slamming shut.

Bolin, with a shake of his head, walked after her, but immediately was stopped by Saikhan, whose lip curled in apparent distaste. The doctor had only just met the man, but had already developed a growing dislike for him. _Just what does he have against Asami?_ "You're not her friend, you know," the captain stated, arms crossed against his chest. "She doesn't have friends. Or colleagues, or whatever she introduced you as. So, Dr. Lieng, who the hell are you?"

"I'm…"Bolin didn't know what to say. Who was he, really? He was twenty-eight, an earthbender, an orphan with an estranged brother, a former doctor, a former soldier. He wasn't perfect, but he tried to do good and be good. "I'm no one. We—uh, we just met." He left out the part of them possibly renting a room together, knowing that the captain would probably take it the wrong way, somehow, and freak out.

"Okay, then you're long since due for some advice." Saikhan leaned close to Bolin, so close that the doctor could smell his breath. "Stay away from her."

Bolin blinked, because he had, deep down, expected the man to say something along the lines of that. "Why?" he inquired, cocking an eyebrow.

"You do know why she's here, don't you, Doc? She _likes _it. The weirder the crime, the more she likes it. And one day showing up and solving it in one second won't be enough for the woman. One day, we'll all be standing around someone's corpse and Asami Sato will be the one that put it there."

"She wouldn't do something like that—"

"Yeah, she would," interrupted Saikhan. "She will because she's insane, crazy, nutty; whatever you want to call her condition. So, I repeat, Doctor—stay away from Asami Sato."

Bolin was spared having to respond to the police captain by Beifong coming out of the room behind him, Officer Song mumbling apologies next to her. _Hope she didn't hear our conversation—that'd be awkward._ "Saikhan, get a move on, we need to get back to the station before it gets late," Beifong said, giving a nod to Bolin before sauntering off into the distance. Song and Saikhan followed, leaving Bolin alone in the hallway.

_Stay away from Asami Sato._

He shook his head in disbelief and walked out of the house, hoping to see Asami waiting for him, but his roommate wasn't there. Neither was the taxi that had taken them to the crime scene. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath as it started to rain. The few police officers still outdoors started going into the house, all holding files and flashlights. One of them shut off the siren from his car, and Bolin's knees almost buckled in relief. _Thank the Spirits._

As he trudged down the road, the collar of his jacket turned up against the rain, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and he whirled around to see two tall men in plain black suits in his line of vision, holding umbrellas to block out the rain. "Bolin Lieng, correct?" one asked in a deep voice.

"Yes, and you are?" he asked calmly, tilting his head to the side. Neither of them looked like they were holding guns on him, or overly threatening at all. The two were obviously someone's puppets, sent to do the person's dirty work.

"None of your business," deadpanned the other man. "We're going to have to ask you to come with us, Doctor."

He coughed. "Are you arresting me?" he inquired incredulously. Did they work for Beifong? What was going on?

The first man chuckled without humor. Even his laugh was perfectly monotone. Bolin fought the urge to snap his fingers in the man's face to see if he'd blink. "Not quite, Dr. Lieng. Someone just wants to have a nice little chat with you."

"And may I enquire as to whom?" Bolin asked, trying to sound professional even though both men made him unaccountably nervous for some reason.

A sleek black car pulled up to the curb, and one of the men opened the car door. "You'll see," he said simply. "Come along now, Doctor."

Bolin had enough sense to know that he had no choice in the matter and gave the men a quick nod, getting into the back of the car. The two hulks remained standing on the sidewalk as the car drove off into the distance.

**To be continued…**

**-Boa :)**


	4. A Study in Ivory: Act One, Part 3

**Quick A/N: I know people have been asking me whether or not this is set in the modern BBC Sherlock setting—a.k.a. present day—so, let me clear something up.**

**It's not.**

**Illogical Logical is set in the same time period as LOK is set in. While I do use the 'A Study in Pink' transcript by Ariane DeVere on livejournal for some parts of the dialogue, the rest of it—flashbacks, cases, description, OC's, and all—is entirely my imagination. I hope that clarifies things up a bit. If it doesn't, feel free to PM me. I'm available anytime.**

**Thanks to Kirazin, akanami94, Zadien, Guest, and Janine for your reviews, and akanami94 and Nice Guy 13 for your follows. I appreciate it.**

**Please enjoy this next chapter of Illogically Logical.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Cover Credits go to Hopiamanipopcorn from deviantART.**

Illogically Logical by boasamishipper

Act One, Part 3

A surprisingly short while later, Bolin found himself in a small room that contained a pair of armchairs with a mahogany table between them. He sat in the one directly across from the door, just in case he needed to make a quick getaway. After a few moments of inspecting the room, the door opened, and a man entered, holding a manila folder under his arm and closed the door behind him with a resounding thud.

The stranger had dark hair with a few grey streaks in it, bushy eyebrows, wore round, circular glasses, had a thick mustache, and wore a three-piece suit that looked like it cost more than his house. He sat down across from Bolin, laid the file on the table and laced his fingers together in a prayer position, smiling like a shark-squid. "Hello."

"Hello," Bolin replied neutrally, although his mind was racing. _What's going on? What did I do? Did I do anything?_ "Can I help you with something?"

There was silence for a moment, then, "You don't seem very afraid."

"Should I be? You don't exactly seem very frightening." _Idiot, _he chided himself. _Idiot. Idiot, you're an idiot. What if he's a serial killer or something? What if this is about Mako? What's going on?_

The stranger gave a soft, partially suppressed laugh, almost catching Bolin off guard. "That depends. I've been told from different sources all over the Republic that I'm both the most frightening man they have ever had the displeasure of encountering, and then I'm referred to as gentle as a sky-bison."

Bolin rolled his eyes. "Okay, enough with the fucking pleasantries. I know that you didn't invite me here to have a tea party. So, tell me, whoever you are, why am I here?"

The man looked at him sternly, his eyes narrowed. "What is your connection to Asami Sato?" he inquired.

The doctor was taken aback once more—on one hand, he had actually been expecting that question, and on the other hand, he wasn't sure what to say now that one of his worst-case scenarios had been verbalized by someone he didn't even know. "I—I barely know her, we only met…" he looked away thoughtfully, and was surprised at how little time had passed since their introduction. "…we only met yesterday."

"Mhmm." The man looked unconvinced. "And yesterday you've moved in with her, and now, from what I see, you're already solving crimes together." A faint smile crossed his lips. "Should I expect a wedding invitation in my mailbox by next week?"

Bolin's eye twitched. Spirits, they'd only just met and the man was grating on his nerves almost as much as Saikhan had. "You still haven't answered my question. Who are you?"

"The closest thing to a friend that a person like Asami Sato is capable of having, Doctor." He paused, leaning forward over the table until the two of them were barely a foot apart. "An enemy."

"Well, isn't that dramatic." Bolin didn't realize that he'd said the sarcastic comment out loud until the man frowned at him. He felt like he was in the principal's office receiving a scolding or something as equally awkward. He stood up. So did the stranger. "Am I done here, _sir?_"

"Do you plan to continue your association with Asami Sato?"

"You know," Bolin began, feigning a pleasant expression, "I _could _be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that that is none of your business."

The man wasn't fazed and he sat back down. "It could be." _And that's not ominous at all, you mysterious stranger. Why does everything have to be 'what is the sound of one hand clapping?' with these kinds of people? _"If you move into two hundred and twenty-one B Baker Street, I'd be happy to pay you a certain amount of money on a daily basis."

"And you would do this…why?" Bolin asked skeptically, crossing his arms over his chest. "Surely it's not out of the goodness of your heart."

"I'll pay you in exchange for information," he said bluntly. "Nothing too imprudent, nothing too complex. Just, well, tell me what she's up to."

Bolin raised an eyebrow. He'd been expecting that too, it just sounded strange out loud. "Why?"

"I worry about Asami…frequently." For a split second, the man's arrogant expression slipped away, making him seem about ten years younger. "We have what you might call a complex relationship, Dr. Lieng."

"Look, sir, I'm not here to be your therapist," Bolin snapped. "I'm not even that kind of doctor anyways. And in response to your question as to whether or not I want to be your…spy…the answer is no."

"I haven't even mentioned the price I'm willing to pay yet. One million yuans."

_One…one million yuans? Holy shit. _Bolin's vision tunneled for a second at the thought of that much money, but he strengthened his willpower. "No." _Dear Spirits, I must be out of my mind. I just turned down _one million yuans. _But then again, no. The money isn't worth it, especially if he's paying me to spy on Asami._

The man laughed briefly. "I imagine people have already warned you to stay away from her. Could it be that you, a medical man, a 2nd Lieutenant of the United Forces' Third Battalion, have decided to trust Asami Sato, of all people?"

"And who says I trust her?" he automatically countered, although his insides were reeling. Did he really trust her? Already? They had only met yesterday, for Spirits' sake!

"You don't seem the kind of person to make friends easily," the man said straightforwardly.

Bolin looked at him for a moment before turning his back on him and began to walk away. _Insane—this guy is a completely insane, power-hungry criminal mastermind. Why did I bother going with those two overgrown goons of his?_

"Although," the man said just as Bolin's hand was on the doorknob, "if I were to look through your service records, I suppose I'd find you had excellent—albeit platonic—relationships with PFC Riya Sami, Sergeant Kimiri, Sergeant Hiroshu, Corporal Yuhan, and 1st Lieutenant Kai Chouko—at least before their untimely deaths."

He stopped dead in his tracks. _Chouko. Kimiri. Yuhan, Riya, Hiroshu. How did he know?_ The breath vanished from his lungs. His shoulders tensed and he whirled around to face the man. "How dare you mention my men against me," he said savagely, through bared teeth. "You have no—how dare—how do you know about my unit?"

"Your therapist thinks you have post-traumatic stress disorder, that you're haunted by your military service."

"_You're an army doctor. It'll take you time to adjust to civilian life…"_

"_The rest of it was easy from there. Dark circles under your eyes—obviously you haven't been sleeping well. I assume nightmares, and since you're a doctor, an army doctor, I'm going to take it one step further and say that you're dreaming of the men that you failed to save—ergo, survivor's guilt."_

A muscle in Bolin's cheek twitched repeatedly. His hand flickered to his belt again, and Bolin wished more than ever that he had his service pistol on him. "Who the fuck are you? How do you know that?"

"I have several _friends _in the military police, Dr. Lieng," the man stated. "And in the government. To me, _Doc, _nothing is a secret." He picked up the file, stood up and walked towards the door. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Bolin," he said pleasantly. "I hope we meet again, under better circumstances."

Bolin, as if in a dream, slid aside as the man opened the door and walked out.

"_To me, _Doc,_ nothing is a secret."_

"_I hope we meet again…"_

"_N-not…gonna make it, D-Doc…"_

"_You're not dying, not on my watch."_

_/…/_

_A duffel was slung over his shoulder as he walked down the pier, eyes searching for the taxi that he'd hired to take him to the hotel that the United Forces was paying for, sort of as compensation for the horrible shoulder wound he'd acquired. Like_, "sorry you got shot and discharged, here's rent for a cheap as hell hotel that'll last you a week",_ Bolin thought deprecatingly._

_His eyes widened. _No way, _he thought in disbelief as he saw his older brother waiting on the platform, holding a big white sign with their last name scribbled on it in black marker. For a second, he thought that he was going to cry, but he swallowed the lump in his throat and kept walking._

_Bolin went right up to his thirty-year-old brother, who instead of wrapping him in a hug, looked up at him and said dismissively, "Sorry, I'm waiting for my brother. You probably have the wrong person."_

"_Mako," Bolin whispered, the lump in his throat growing bigger, "it's me. Bolin."_

"_Bo—_Bolin_?" his voice sounded surprised, as though Bolin had claimed that Tue and La were having a torrid love affair. "Oh, Spirits...I…I didn't r-recognize—you look—I'm sorry." Mako pulled him into a tight hug, his face buried in Bolin's shoulder. "Welcome home, little brother."_

"_Good to be back, big brother," he lied. "Why—Mako, ah, why are you h-here?"_

"_I heard that you were back and I thought I'd surprise you," he said, the excuse pathetic but Bolin was so happy to see a familiar face that he didn't care._

"_How's, uh…" Damnit, what was his brother's girlfriend's name again? Kotta? Kaia? "How's Korra? You two still together?"_

_Mako's face turned red. "She left me."_

_Oh, _ouch. _That meant he'd have to deal with not only protective-Mako, but brooding-crybaby-protective-Mako. Wonderful. Bolin was silent as he followed Mako into their rusty Satomobile, and plopped his duffle bag in the backseat._

_Mako pulled out of the parking lot and started driving. "Mind if I turn on the radio, Bo?" he asked, his voice timid, as if he was afraid of him. But that was ridiculous. Why would his _brother _be afraid of him?_

_Bolin shook his head, signifying that he didn't mind. Mako switched on the radio, and a broadcast began transmitting._

_It was only when something caught his attention that he stiffened, his knuckles clenched so tightly they started to hurt._

"…_The only survivors of a unit in the Third Battalion of the United Forces were 2__nd__ Lieutenant Bolin Lieng, MD, and Corporal Jiao-long Takumi. Lieng was given an Indigo Crux, along with an honorable discharge when a bullet broke his collarbone and shredded his clavicle. Takumi, who was given a promotion to Sergeant, is now leading his own unit in the United Forces and is the recipient of a Dual Service Acclamation Medal…"_

"_Do…do you want me to—"_

"_No," he said, his voice shaking. "I want to hear it." He turned the volume up louder, and then immediately wished that he hadn't._

"_1__st__ Lieutenant Kai Chouko, with almost ten years of service to his name, was unfortunately declared dead on arrival once they got to an army base. He was awarded a posthumous Copper Sun and an Indigo Crux, and is survived by his wife, Penga, and their unborn son, who will be his father's namesake. It's a touching story, isn't it, Nyota?"_

"_It sure is, Shiro. It's not the first tragedy the Third Battalion has had, though. Over the past seven years, the deaths of PFC Riya Sami, Sergeant Mila Kimiri, Sergeant Hiroshu Niko and Corporal Shen Yuhan have saddened the nation, but hopefully—"_

_Mako switched the station off, and the silence that filled the car was louder than anything Bolin had ever heard._

_Oh, Spirits… _Bolin shuddered at the as the door opened once more, and a pretty young lady walked in, wearing a sunflower yellow dress. "I'm Ming-Li," she said, her voice soft and distracted. Her attention was focused on a stack of papers in her hands. "I'm supposed to take you home, Dr. Lieng." She paused. "Any place in particular?" She sounded like she already knew the answer.

"Er, the inn on—" He paused. No. That wasn't his home anymore. "Never mind. Baker Street—two two one B Baker Street, please."

Later, the car pulled up on the familiar street, the brass numbers on the door gleaming under the light of a streetlamp. Bolin looked over at Ming-Li, who was shifting through the papers as if her life depended on it. "Listen—the man that I spoke to—don't tell him I went here, okay?" Then he paused and mentally slapped himself. "Don't tell me—you've told him already, haven't you?"

Ming-Li smiled across to him briefly. "Hit the nail on the head with that one, Dr. Lieng."

He nodded, resigned that he had probably signed away his privacy without even knowing it and made to get out of the car before quickly turning back to Ming-Li. "Are you—do you—want to have dinner this weekend?"

She chuckled. "It's a sweet offer, Doctor. You're just…" she paused. "Not my _type,_ shall we say?"

Bolin felt like he'd been struck down by a bolt of lightning. His cheeks were red with humiliation. "Oh. _Oh_. Okay. Erm…don't…have a good night."

She continued reading a sheet of paper with a mess of technical jargon scribbled all over it before suddenly looking up. "Bye."

_That went well, you smooth talker, you._ "Okay." He got out and closed the door behind him, standing on the sidewalk and watched the car pull away down the street.

(*) (*)

He'd barely stepped foot back in the apartment when the piercing crack of a gunshot echoed in the air. Bolin stumbled backwards and slammed his hand on the railing to keep from falling down the stairs and cracking his head open. _Of all the days I don't have my fucking gun on me, _he cursed himself, _it had to be today?_ He carefully stepped into the room, his fists clenched in preparation for battle as his adrenaline levels skyrocketed.

Lying on the couch—in no imminent danger—with her feet stuck up straight in the air and a pistol aimed straight at the ceiling was Asami Sato, looking like the poster child for nonchalance until she fired another shot into the air, causing bits of the ceiling plaster to rain down on her.

_Spirits, everyone I seem to have dealt with today is completely off their rockers. Is there any normality left in the Four Nations?_ "What the hell are you doing?" Bolin exclaimed in disbelief.

"Thinking." Her voice was flat, monotonous, and should've made the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up. Instead, he just felt annoyed.

"Well, Asami, can you possibly think without shooting into the ceiling?" he retorted, instinctually reverting to his usual sarcastic demeanor. "For Spirits' sake, that is a ceiling inside of the apartment we rent, not a target at a shooting range."

Asami rolled her eyes. "I am bored, Dr. Lieng," she informed him, and he managed not to roll his eyes at her with extreme difficulty. "This case, while intriguing, has stumped me for the time being, and I am _bored._"

"Do you know what people do when they're bored, Asami?"

She raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to continue.

"They don't fucking shoot bullets into a ceiling!"

"What do they shoot into ceilings, then? Cocaine?"

_For the love of all that's holy, please just smite me down now._ "Don't be glib, Asami, it doesn't suit you." He paused, ready to continue berating her when Asami closed her eyes and folded her hands under her chin. Bolin rolled his eyes, walked over to the window and looked out of it into the street below.

"_To me, _Doc, _nothing is a secret."_

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Asami tilt her head towards him in interest. "What's wrong with you?"

"I recently met a friend of yours," Bolin replied. _Scared the shit out of me too—I'm still pissed how he used my unit against me._

"A friend_?_" she repeated in disbelief. "I don't have _friends,_ Doctor."

"An enemy," he clarified, feeling stupid. Just why he had to be some psychopath's messenger boy astounded him. "He said he was the closest thing that you had to a friend, which was an enemy."

Much to his surprise, Asami seemed to relax. "Oh! Well, don't just stand there: tell me, which one?"

"Which one—how the hell should I know which one? He had dark hair with grey streaks in it, bushy eyebrows, and some round glasses, dressed like he had a stick up his ass—"

"Did he offer you money to spy on me?"

The question almost took him aback. "Um…" He debated lying for a split second before reluctantly nodding. "Yes."

"And did you take it?" She paused. "Wait, don't answer that. You didn't, it's quite obvious." Asami hesitated again before continuing briskly, "Pardon my language, Dr. Lieng, but you're an idiot. We could've paid for three years' worth of rent with the money he would've given you. Do think it through next time."

"Who is he, anyways?"

Her expression turned dark as she stared at the ceiling, her grip twitching on the revolver. He made a mental note to take it away from her. "The most dangerous man you've ever met in your life and _so_ not my problem right now."

His jaw nearly dropped to the floor and his eyes almost bugged out of his head. "Right," he said, his voice tight. He walked over to her and wrenched the gun out of her grasp. _It's like taking candy from a baby._ "Look, Ms. S—Asami, I am not in the mood to deal with your quirks right now." _Especially not with the memories of my unit dying that were dredged up because of one of your fucking enemies._ "I'll be at the pub across the street, okay? Go there if you need me."

Bolin exited the apartment with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. Luckily, the drizzle that had been hanging over Republic City had vanished around the same time that he had finished speaking with Asami's enemy, so it was a nice, cool, clear night. He tilted his head backwards and stared up at the sky, admiring the speckle of stars that looked like salt on a dark black tablecloth.

"Spirits," he muttered before crossing the street to the pub and pushing open the front door, hoping that the atmosphere in here would be slightly less psychotic than the one he'd left behind.

He'd barely sat down at the counter and ordered a whiskey when a girl with short brown curly hair plopped down next to him, reeking of cigarette smoke. "One amaretto sour, please," she ordered, her voice raw and scratchy, like she'd recently suffered a case of strep throat. Bolin refused to make eye contact with her, not wanting to flirt with anyone tonight, but she leaned over to him, giving the doctor an impressive view of her cleavage.

"Aw, hell," he mumbled before smiling at her. "Hi! Um, what's your name?"

"Jaida," she boasted. "Jaida Kuji. And you are?"

"Um…" For a moment, he debated giving her a fake name to avoid suspicion, or even telling her outright that he wasn't interested, but he wasn't that cruel. Eight years ago, he would've been flirting with her like a champion and would've had her in bed with him by the end of the night. The times had changed, however, and he sighed. "My name's Lieng. Bolin Lieng."

"Nice to meet you, Lieng-Bolin-Lieng." She smiled cheekily, and he wanted to bury his face in his hands and never come out. Of course Jaida had to be one of _those _people. Bolin took a sip of his whiskey, relishing in the taste. _I'm gonna need a lot more than this if I wanna survive the night._ He gave her an extremely fake smile, shifting positions and crossed his legs, resting his right foot on the lower edge of the barstool he was sitting on.

"So, Jaida, tell me about yourself…" he said, and instantly regretted opening his mouth the second Jaida opened hers.

"Well, I want to work in videos, but I want to be my own star in the video, because I want to be a pop singer, a rock singer, and write my own songs. And then I'm going to try to be an actress, because people tell me I'm a natural, and I'm going to write and direct my own stories, and produce the movers...what about you?" she finally asked him, her voice high and perky while he felt like dozing off. "What do _you_ do?"

"…I'm—well, I was an army doctor for the United Forces, but then I got discharged—"

"Oh, that's just sad," she interrupted without a hint of remorse in her voice. "Times change, huh?"

"They do indeed."

Bolin, who had been taking a long sip of his drink, choked and almost dropped his glass. _Oh my Spirits, I know that voice…it can't be, Spirits, please don't let it be her._ "_Asami_?"

"Who else would it be?" Bolin could've sworn that she had given him the faintest of winks before kissing his cheek. "Baby, I thought we were going to go to Asoka's, not here—oh, hello!" she said, pretending to notice Jaida for the first time. "I'm Asami Sato, and you are?" She sounded so different, acting all horribly cheerful and peppy. Spirits, what had just happened to the world in the last fifteen minutes?

"J-Jaida."

"Well, J-Jaida, buzz off, please. My boyfriend and I were having a nice evening before the likes of you showed up." She leaned in closer to Jaida, who was almost trembling. "Get. Lost."

Jaida scampered off, and Bolin let out a breath he wasn't even aware that he'd been holding. But he would rather have jumped into the sea by the Southern Water Tribe than say thank you to his roommate, so he rolled his eyes. "You ruined my date," he deadpanned, taking off his jacket and flinging it on Jaida's empty barstool. He felt much more comfortable in his white and black striped shirt, even though Mako had gotten it for him.

Asami, who looked immaculate in a purple short-sleeved shirt, dark pants and perfect makeup, repeated in the same tone of voice, "So?"

He opened his mouth to fire off an angry retort, but closed it. She _had, _after all, just saved him from an evening of hell. The least he could do would be to thank her. "Thanks," he said, genuinely grateful. "I didn't like that broad at all—"

"Oh, I knew that," Asami said dismissively. "It was really obvious from your posture."

"From my—" He closed his mouth. "Forget it. I don't want to know."

Asami laughed, a faint smile on her lips as she shook her head, her dark black hair bouncing on her shoulders. "You probably don't," she replied. Grabbing his whiskey and downing the last few drops, she slid it to the bartender and called, "Two more!"

Bolin rolled his eyes as the bartender set down the two drinks and flashed him a quick thumbs-up. Asami didn't appear to notice. "So…" he rolled out the word for a few moments before continuing his sentence. "Have you figured out anything more about the case?"

Her head snapped up and she beamed. "Actually, yes, now that you mentioned it. I've narrowed down the killer's profession—he or she is obviously a bartender."

"How do you figure?" he asked, still unsure as to how she'd deduced a drunken loiterer being at the crime scene at all, but didn't want to ask. It'd probably only confuse him further.

"Well, I deduced from the drunken loiterer that Song had seen earlier during the crime scene that he had to be a bartender. How else would one person find so much alcohol? Of course, it was all an act, she wasn't really drunk—he just wanted to see what was going on after the death. She's interested, very interested. Also, the victim's drinks were drugged. And who gives out drinks?"

"Bartenders."

Asami applauded. "Give the man a hand."

"Have you told the police this, Asami?"

"Dr. Lieng, there are four people dead because of this person. There isn't time to talk to the police, nor any interest on my part to do so. They'll only muck it up."

"Then," he asked curiously, "why are you talking to me?"

For a brief second, Asami actually looked uncomfortable and stared down at her hands. "Mrs. Shirui took my skull. I usually talk to Tougu, but skulls draw attention in public, you see."

"You don't say." Then something struck him as odd. "So, what, I'm basically filling in for Tougu—um, your skull?"

She shrugged. "You're not doing horrible. If you were, make no mistake, I would've told you to get lost a long time ago." Asami hesitated as her eyes narrowed and her head tilted to the side. "Ah, you have a problem with it, Doctor. Who said something? H—my enemy?"

"No, it was…um, it was Captain Saikhan."

Her jaw dropped slightly. "Don't tell me you're missing out on danger and adventure just because of what that prick Saikhan had to say about me?"

"He said you get off on this. You enjoy it."

"The way I see it is like this. Some people enjoy reading. Some people enjoy painting. I just happen to have a more unorthodox way of having fun than others." She stopped talking and let a smirk play on her lips. "Saikhan enjoys roleplaying as an ostrich-horse while his lover acts as a jockey for fun." Bolin choked on his drink. "I've poked and prodded and teased him, but it's his idea of fun, so what can I do about it?" She stared intently at him, making Bolin feel uncomfortable. "You, on the other hand, Dr. Lieng, noticeably perked up when I mentioned danger and adventure. What does that say about you?"

What did it say about him, besides the fact that he was an adrenaline junkie?

"_You're an army doctor. It'll take you time to adjust to civilian life."_

And it would. He'd already been home for three months, in the city he'd grown up in, but he still flinched at the sound of cars backfiring and switched the radio station when any talk came up about the war. He put flowers on his fellow soldiers' gravestones ever weekend. He was the model of a PTSD-stricken soldier.

He'd lived for danger and adventure during his seven years in the army. The adrenaline was what made him tick, much as he hated to admit it.

_I guess it still makes me tick now, too._

"I don't know what it says about me," he replied evenly. "In fact, it says nothing about me except the fact that I'm an adrenaline addict. And because of that, I guess I have no room to judge you about your idea of fun." He half-smiled. "Just so long as you don't introduce me to everyone as your skull's replacement. People will talk, you know."

"They do little else, Doctor. So dull."

"Yeah, that's another thing," Bolin said, finding courage in both the whiskey and the easy conversation he had going with her. "Don't call me Doctor, or Dr. Lieng—I mean, you _can_. It just makes me seem all stuffy, you know?" Not to mention that it reminded him of his army days too much. His profession was what most of his unit had said before their deaths, pleading for him to help them. "Call me…well, call me Bolin."

"Okay, then." She raised her glass of whiskey in a mock salute and grinned. "Okay, Bolin."

**To be continued…**

**-Boa :)**


	5. A Study in Ivory: Act Two, Part 1

**Thank you to The Reading Elf, Kirazin and akanami94 for your reviews, Willibaldvonsomething, Mr Makulu and sirkatesalot for your follows, and Warmach1ne32 and TheStorySearcher for your favorite. I appreciate it.**

**Please enjoy this next chapter of Illogically Logical.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Cover Credits go to Hopiamanipopcorn from deviantART.**

Illogically Logical by boasamishipper

Act Two, Part 1

Jaida pouted as she marched out of the bar, her arms crossed over her chest. It just wasn't _fair!_ How were all the cute guys taken? That girl who'd said they were dating wasn't even that pretty. At least not as pretty as _her_. Bolin Lieng, a _doctor_, and he was cute. Most doctors were just broody and stressed and just…awful looking. But not that guy_._ She practically swooned, thinking of his smooth voice and dark hair and his interested look when he'd listened to her talk about her dreams.

_Stupid bitch,_ she thought, her lip jutting out. _But Momma says that there are plenty of fish in the sea. There's bound to be another hottie out there for someone like me, right?_ Yes. There had to be, what with her long reddish-brown hair, dark skin, and big brown eyes. She went through a tube of lip gloss a week, wore great outfits—therefore someone had to notice her. Right?

Jaida shivered as she made her way around the corner. _I really should've brought a sweater or something, it's too damn cold out in this getup._ She made a mental note to herself that the next time she went barhopping, she'd take a sweater with her.

She fumbled with the keys as she placed them into the lock and opened the door, wondering why she suddenly felt so…tired. _Wonder if Huang's home, or if he's out playing Mr. Lone Ranger, 'get the fuck away from me, Jaida' today. Sick bastard. Hope he rots in hell._

Her hands flew to her mouth as she tried to unsuccessfully stifle a yawn, collapsing onto her couch. She could always get undressed later and wash off her makeup in the morning before heading to the unemployment office. Spirits, but was she tired. Why was she so tired?

As she was pondering her state, the door creaked open, and she opened her eyes, peering blearily at the front door. "Huang?" she asked, her voice slurring. "Is that you, babe?"

Huang—if it was him—didn't respond. Instead, he sat down on the arm of the couch and ran his fingers through her hair. In the back of Jaida's mind, she wondered why her husband was being so affectionate: he usually wasn't so touchy-feely with her. She shut her eyes again, trying to think over the lulling rhythm of his affections. "Shh," he whispered, and his voice sounded different. Was he drunk? Was he high? No, his voice wasn't slurred or lower than usual. If anything, it was rusty-sounding and sort of mellow. "Shh, darling. Were you drinking earlier?"

"Mhmm," Jaida grunted in assent. "Went out with Kaia and the girls to…a bar…" Spirits, she hadn't felt this tired since the end of her college finals. "What… 'bout you?"

"I'm fine, babe." _Babe?_ He hardly ever called her babe. That settled it. Something had to be the matter. She tried desperately to force her eyes open and pushed herself up on her elbows.

"What's wrong?" she asked, trying to sound no-nonsense, but came sounding slightly drunk. Hopefully he could read between the lines, even in this strange 'caring' state of his. "H-Huang, t-talk to me. What's the matter?"

"Can't I be caring to my wife, Jaida?"

"Y-you're not usually…like this, darling," she retorted, weakly. "And—I'm t-tired. Can we continue this in the morning, Huang?"

"Of course." That should've set off even more alarm bells in the back of her mind, but she was so exhausted at this point that she wouldn't have been able to distinguish up and down if someone had asked her. "Just one more question, Jaida."

He leaned closer, and she could smell his breath—a mix of whiskey and…something…clean-smelling. Like bleach. His voice came quietly and slightly staticky, like she was listening to her husband speak through a radio with a horrible connection. "Wha'?" she asked, wanting desperately to drift off. Huang sounded so far away already…

"How long will it be before anyone misses you?"

(*) (*)

_Bolin was on his third drink and was heading down the blissful road to oblivion when he heard someone sit down next to him. He instantly tensed, and was about to tell whoever it was to buzz off and leave him be when he noticed who it was._

"_Whiskey isn't the answer to everything, you know, Doc," the man said, tapping a lazy pattern on the countertop. He recognized it as the United Republic's national anthem._

"_Hello to you too, Yuhan," Bolin replied, his voice dry and slightly slurred by the alcohol. The corporal looked awful, with bloodshot eyes and stubble that looked at least two days old. "And I like whiskey."_

"_Really." Yuhan's voice was sarcastic as he gestured to the nearly empty bottle of whiskey on the counter that rested between them. "I hadn't noticed."_

_There was silence for a few moments before Yuhan sighed, burying his face in his hands. "Where's Lieutenant Chouko?" he asked, his voice slightly muffled. "Does he know you're in here?"_

"_Chouko's notifying Colonel Jiang with the mission report," was Bolin's terse response. He wouldn't have wanted to be in that room even if they had paid him, with all the tears and the scent of cologne and blood and sweat—and of course, the overwhelming stench of failure. "He's not my babysitter, Yuhan. I can damn well go to a bar and drink if I want to." _Especially under these circumstances, _he wanted to add._

"_Does…does Colonel Jiang know about Riya?" Yuhan asked, and his voice shook. Bolin felt the slightest pangs of guilt in his stomach for brushing off the corporal's feelings—the entire unit had known how close Yuhan and Riya had been. "And Hiroshu?"_

"_I'd think so, yeah," Bolin answered wearily, wanting nothing more than to just lie down and go to sleep. In less than two days, they had lost two soldiers. He didn't need to be a psychic to know how badly it reflected on the Third Battalion. "Their families are in there too."_

"_Fucking Spirits." Yuhan swore miserably. No one in the bar paid him any attention. "Why aren't you in there too, Doc? You're the second in command."_

_Because it was his fault that Riya had died in the first place. He had tried in vain to keep her with them, but had failed. The damn sniper from the New Freedom Fighters had shot her in the neck, grazing her carotid artery and had killed her almost instantly. Hiroshu had succeeded in shooting the sniper, but at the risk of his own life. Bolin couldn't face Hiroshu and Riya's parents and tell them that he had been the one to let their children die a horrible death. As much as he hated leaving Chouko to do it all for him, Bolin just _couldn't _do it. "I couldn't do it, Shen," he told Yuhan, slipping habit and calling the corporal by his first name. "I just couldn't do it."_

_Yuhan sighed, taking an empty glass and filling it halfway with the amber-colored alcohol. "It's alright," he said heavily, and took a small sip. "Lieutenant Chouko asked me the same thing, if I wanted to go and tell their parents. I couldn't do it either."_

"_And yet, by divine intervention, you all thought that I could," said a droll voice from behind. Bolin and Yuhan whirled around to see the lieutenant standing with his arms crossed over his chest. The corporal gave him a tired salute, and Bolin nodded. "Newsflash, Lieng, you're the next one to do the 'I'm sorry to inform you' spiel, got it?"_

"_Yes, sir," muttered Bolin. "How—how was it?"_

"_How do you think it was?" Chouko retorted, plopping down on the barstool next to Yuhan. "Riya's mother cried something terrible. Hiroshu's dad nearly fainted, and Hiroshu's mother kept asking us if we were sure. Like, no ma'am, we just called you here to inform you about your son's death on a whim. If he wasn't dead, he would've been labeled as MIA. Why don't they get that?" The lieutenant snorted derisively. "Goddamnit if my job isn't the hardest ever."_

"_My brother wrote me today, you know," Bolin said quietly. Yuhan and Chouko's heads shot up—both of them knew that his brother had written him less than ten times in his entire army career. "He heard about—about Riya and Hiroshu. Kept asking me if I was alright, and if I wanted to quit."_

"_What'd you say?" Yuhan asked curiously._

_Bolin rolled his eyes. "I said, and I quote, that I wasn't giving up the only job that I actually like just so I could work some boring, meaningless desk job like him, eventually get married, and have a house in the suburbs with 2.5 kids." He paused, gauging the others' slightly stunned expressions. "Wrong response?"_

"_Not if you want to get your brother off your back for a while, Doc," Yuhan answered._

_Chouko laughed. "It isn't all that bad, you know. At least in the boonies they don't have as much traffic, gang or drug problems. You'll sleep easy at night, trust me."_

"_Like you and Penga do any sleeping," Bolin retorted, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender to let Chouko know that he was only kidding. "Seriously, Lieutenant, when're you going to ask her to marry you?"_

"_When I feel like it," was the man's pensive response, sounding like a toddler. Yuhan snorted into his whiskey. "Besides, Doc, I kind of want to be able to afford a ring first before I propose."_

_Bolin winced, knowing full well how Chouko felt. His own father had proposed to his mother with a plastic diamond ring that he'd found in a cereal box because he couldn't afford one. The doctor hoped that when he had to propose to his significant other, he would be able to afford a real wedding ring. "Yeah, that's probably best."_

"_Lieutenant Chouko?" Yuhan asked, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. "Who—will anyone replace R-Riya? And Hiroshu? Has Colonel Jiang come up with anyone yet?"_

"_Yeah," Chouko admitted. "He talked to me about it once Riya and Hiroshu's parents left. Said he had some applicants lined up—a Sergeant Mila Kimiri, Corporal Jiao-long Takumi, and Lance Corporal Iko Raia. Nothing too special, but…" His voice trailed off. "What can you do?"_

_Yuhan raised his glass in a toast. "To Private First Class Riya Sami and Sergeant Hiroshu Niko. May they rest in peace—"_

"_And may the Spirits kindly receive them," finished Bolin, holding up his own glass and clinking it against Yuhan's. "Are you going to join in on our drinking, sir?" he inquired of the lieutenant, who laughed and picked up a glass as well._

"_Why the hell not?"_

"_Hey, Doc," Yuhan spoke up a while later, significantly more buzzed than he'd been an hour ago. "Y'know, y-you're the only one of us who doesn't have a nickname? I think that we should give you a nickname."_

"_What're you suggesting, Corporal?" Chouko asked, raising an eyebrow. "You don't think that 'Doc' is good enough for him?"_

"_Well, Lieutenant, sir, the way I see it, since Dr. Lieng's dad was from the Earth Kingdom, and his mom was from the Fire Nation, and since the Doc currently lives in Republic City…" Yuhan paused for dramatic effect. "Why not the nickname 'Three Continents'?"_

_Bolin groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Spirits, Yuhan, that's an _awful _nickname."_

"_2__nd__ Lieutenant Bolin 'Three Continents' Lieng, MD," Chouko said before grimacing. "It _is_ a bit of a mouthful, Yuhan…"_

_Yuhan was not to be deterred. "I think it's a great nickname," he said stubbornly. "Bolin 'Three Continents' Lieng. Has a nice ring to it."_

_Chouko rolled his eyes and punched Bolin in the shoulder. "There isn't anyone who can stop him now, eh, Doc? He's got that gleam in his eyes, you see. If Yuhan has his way, Bolin 'Three Continents' Lieng will be etched on your tombstone."_

They had gotten home from the bar around eleven p.m., and Bolin had ended up collapsing in his bed, the amount of drinks he'd had swirling in his mind both yesterday and at that moment. Naturally, his new roommate didn't seem to be affected in the slightest. She'd been looking over at the newspaper when he'd stumbled into the kitchen that morning, and without a moment of hesitation, had said that Mrs. Shirui kept hangover cures in one of the cabinets.

Now, sitting at the kitchen table with a significantly smaller headache than he'd had before, Bolin rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, squinting at Asami in disbelief. "Exactly how do you not know who President Raiko is?" he inquired, pointing at the newspaper. She had commented something about how many plebs were making headlines nowadays, and he couldn't believe it. It was _the president._ His former commander in chief, next to General Iroh and Commander Bumi, of course.

"Does it matter?" Asami replied. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. She reminded him of a petulant toddler. "Will he help me solve crimes? Will his very existence change the world? No. Thus, I deleted him from my memory."

Spirits, it really was just like arguing with a toddler. Except with a hangover. "You…you can't just delete someone from your memory, Asami."

"Oh, quite the contrary. I've done it loads of times," she said flippantly, and placed the newspaper on the table. "Do close your mouth, Doctor…Bolin. You look like you're suffering from whatever disease is constantly plaguing Saikhan."

"Which would be?"

"Constipation of the brain and diarrhea of the mouth," was her nonchalant response, and Bolin spat out the hangover cure all over the kitchen table and ended up drenching the corner of President Raiko's picture with his saliva. "It's incurable, and in his case, hopefully fatal."

"Tue and La on a broomstick," Bolin coughed. His face was probably bright red by then, but he didn't care. Standing up, he went over to deposit the now empty glass in the sink before sitting back down at the table. "Asami, that's rude."

"Please." She scoffed. "You've been acquainted with him, Dr. Lieng, only one time. I've been interacting with Beifong and her crew for quite some time, and I can honestly say with the Spirits as my witnesses that Captain Saikhan deserves a crueler fate."

"I thought you were working on calling me by my first name, Asami."

Asami rolled her eyes. "It feels strange calling you by your first name."

"Why?" he challenged, crossing his arms over his chest. "Because you never bothered to get to know anybody long enough to know their first names?"

She graced him with a smile. "Very good, Bolin." She placed a strange emphasis on his name, like no one else ever had, and he kind of liked it. "So, last night, we went over quite a few of your secrets." Asami bit her lip. "I apologize for my…boorishness…toward your unit."

"That's alright." He meant it, much to his surprise. Besides, berating her just didn't seem right. "How about some of your secrets, Asami?"

"My secrets are not so many, Doctor, you just lack the capacity to dissect them," she said loftily. "However, I will inform you on a few of my quirks, if you so please. I smoke the occasional cigar, but that's of no concern to you, judging by the pack of Marlboros in your jacket pocket. At times I have dark periods of depression, but it would be best to just leave me to my own devices once they strike."

Bolin considered this. "Bipolar?" he diagnosed. "Or is it something else?"

"Well, sixteen out of the thirty-six child psychiatrists I was forced to see during my teenage years also came to that conclusion." Damn it all to hell if she didn't sound perfectly normal while reciting this.

"_Thirty-six?"_ he repeated in disbelief. "No way."

"If you were to point at any mental disease in a psychology textbook, Dr. Lieng, then I guarantee you that some two-bit head shrinker has diagnosed me with it."

"And yet, you're proud of this fact," Bolin conceded. "Most children are proud of drawings they made in preschool or an A on a biology test. Not the fact that they were diagnosed with bipolar disease."

"Not so much…proud…as thoroughly entertained, shall we say?" Asami admitted before standing up and peering out the window. "Yes, there's been another murder!"

Bolin whirled around and looked out the window, but didn't see anything but a police car pull onto the curb. "You know that they could be here for someone else, right?"

There was a sudden pounding at their door, with the shout of, "Open up! It's me, Chief Lin Beifong, RCPD!"

"She feels the need to throw around her title as if she's afraid it'll disappear," Asami commented with a smirk at Bolin, who remained slightly flabbergasted. "Plus, I heard someone coming up the stairs while I was explaining my dealings with head shrinkers." Raising her voice, she called, "Come in, Chief Beifong!"

"Wha—oh, crap." How was he going to explain why he was only wearing boxer shorts? That would circle back to the precinct and around the city faster than the plague. "Asami, loan me your robe!"

"Are you crazy?" she snapped, her eyes widening. "Why?"

"I don't want her to see me in ragged boxer shorts—"

"Why? Would you rather have her see you in a red satin robe?" Asami countered. "Would you rather have her feeble mind go in circles wondering why I'm in here wearing nothing but my birthday suit?"

"What about my feeble mind and your birthday suit?" Beifong asked, coming into the kitchen. She looked as spotless as she had yesterday evening at the crime scene, though slightly happier. Bolin supposed that it was because Song and Saikhan weren't there with her. She raised a perfectly sloped eyebrow at Bolin, who flushed. _I knew I should've worn a T-shirt or something._ "Nice outfit, Doctor."

"Not a word," he warned her, crossing his arms over his chest. In the back of his mind, he realized that he hadn't blushed this much since he met Commander Bumi for the first time. "Good morning to you as well. Where are Saikhan and Song?"

Beifong's lip twitched. "Song's been transferred and Saikhan is at the precinct. He didn't want to come by."

"No—he wanted to come by but you wouldn't let him," Asami corrected, picking up the newspaper and leafing through it. "Anyhow, there's already been another murder, hasn't there? Out with it—who was he?"

"It's a she," Beifong replied. "And according to her credit cards and ID, her name is Jaida. Jaida Kuji."

Bolin's jaw dropped to his chest. "Jaida Kuji?" he repeated in disbelief, remembering the girl that Asami had thankfully saved him from last night at the bar. "Can't be—I saw her last night."

"What?" Beifong asked, turning to him. Across the table, Asami drew her finger across her throat fervently in a cut-it-out manner. "What do you mean by that, Dr. Lieng?"

"Um." Bolin hesitated. "I went out for a drink and she was hitting on me, Chief. She scampered after a while…not sure why."

"_Who else would it be?" Bolin could've sworn that she had given him the faintest of winks before kissing his cheek. "Baby, I thought we were going to go to Asoka's, not here—oh, hello!" she said, pretending to notice Jaida for the first time. "I'm Asami Sato, and you are?" She sounded so different, acting all horribly cheerful and peppy. Spirits, what had just happened to the world in the last fifteen minutes?_

"_J-Jaida."_

"_Well, J-Jaida, buzz off, please. My boyfriend and I were having a nice evening before the likes of you showed up." She leaned in closer to Jaida, who was almost trembling. "Get. Lost."_

A muscle in Asami's jaw twitched. "So, let me guess, Chief." She placed a mocking emphasis on Beifong's title, and Beifong sighed as if she were used to it. "It's by the same work of the same serial killer as before, am I correct?"

"Y-yes." Beifong cleared her throat. "Yes," she confirmed. "Drugs in her bloodstream, and an ivory sash around her waist."

Bolin tried to picture the energetic, annoying, drunk girl that had been flirting with him last night lying dead somewhere with an ivory sash tied around her waist and an unknown drug floating through her bloodstream. The only thing he could picture was the man from the prior evening in the tenement house on Niwa Garden Way. "Have you gotten any information on the man that we saw last night, Chief?"

"Yes." Beifong actually perked up at this statement, and her lip curled as she gazed over at Asami. "Asami, we found his spouse and his child, they're coming down to the precinct later to be interviewed."

Four thousand volts of electricity couldn't have brought the consulting detective to her feet faster. "Excellent," she praised. "It appears you haven't left your brain in bed this morning after all! Who is she? When can I speak to her? I _need_ to speak to her."

"Well, you'll be waiting a bit if you want to speak to _her_." Beifong was almost smiling at this point. "Our man, Mr. TongXing, was gay."

Asami looked taken aback as she sat back down. "What? No, that's…that's not right. How…why? _Why_?"

"Why was he gay?" Bolin repeated in disbelief. _Of all the things to ask. I hope her parents gave her the 'when two people love each other very much' speech…you couldn't pay me to do that. _"I dunno, Asami, everyone has different preferences—"

"No, no, that's not what I'm talking about, Bolin! Why would the killer murder someone who was gay? He murdered Jaida last night because she was cheating on her husband. The other three before, Miss Nilak, Mr. Hideki and Mr Korei, they were cheating too. Why would he break his streak?"

"Maybe the killer is homophobic?" Beifong said tentatively.

"Possibly, but it doesn't make sense, at least not completely. He nails cheaters, people who should be in long, loving relationships but would rather have one night stands in cheap bars under the influence of cheap whiskey."

"Then there's an easy solution to your dilemma, Asami," Bolin answered. "TongXing wasn't in a long, loving relationship."

"For the love of—" Asami broke off, obviously exasperated, but shook it off and continued speaking. "He had a _child!_ He loved his spouse enough for them to adopt their own child—or have a relative be a birth mother, possibly from the spouse's side because the child doesn't look like TongXing at all. They. Had. A. _Child_."

"Okay, yes, thank you for the emphasis on their offspring, we obviously weren't aware of that the first time around," Beifong snapped. Bolin barely managed to stifle a snicker. "So how do you know the murderer is a he?"

"The bartender last night, Doctor…Bolin, he was of the male persuasion, was he not?"

Bolin nodded. "Um, yeah," he replied slowly, a bit taken aback of the way she had phrased the question. Then something struck him. "But…Asami, aren't I in danger from him too?"

Asami, who had been pacing, actually stopped in her tracks. "What? Why would you think that?"

"Yes, why _would_ you think that, Dr. Lieng?" Beifong repeated impatiently.

"Because—because last night, Jaida was flirting with me, and then you came along and—"

"Oh!" Asami waved her hand nonchalantly, like she was warding off a bad smell. "No, if the killer was after cheaters, he would've nailed you then and there. You didn't succumb to her dubious charms, because remember, I was playing the part of your girlfriend. If you 'cheated' on me with her, then the bartender would've drugged your drink, and I would be kneeling over your drugged, bloated corpse right now and we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Beifong wrinkled her nose at Asami's apt description, but didn't press. Bolin gave a small sigh of relief at knowing that he wasn't being stalked by a strange serial killer.

"So!" Asami clapped her hands together three times. "Chief, you can leave. The good doctor and I will be along momentarily—just give us a few moments to actually get dressed."

"Yes, that would probably be wise," Beifong commented. "I'll be at the precinct. Be there by ten o'clock, the husband and child are arriving at eleven thirty and I think that we need to go over some more sensitivity training. I don't want you to start stealing chocolate bars from seven-year-olds again."

Asami stuck out her bottom lip and pouted, looking all the more like a petulant toddler. "I needed it," she said in response to Bolin's perturbed stare. "It was for an experiment."

Bolin rolled his eyes. _Somehow I doubt that_. "Uh huh."

Beifong checked her wristwatch with a sigh before heading to the door. "I need to get going. See you at ten, Ms. Sato, Dr. Lieng. Tell Mrs. Shirui that I say hello, will you?"

Asami flew out of the room the very moment that Beifong closed the door, her red robe flying behind her as she raced up the stairs. Once she made it up to the landing, she whirled around to face Bolin, who'd barely gotten up from his chair. "Get dressed, Bolin," she called, practically beaming. Rather than the fake smile that she'd given Jaida last night, it was genuine. "We've got a mystery to solve."

**To be continued…**

**-Boa :)**


	6. A Study in Ivory: Act Two, Part 2

**Thank you to TheEvilMelonLord, TheKookieKing11, kubosz, and akanami94 for your reviews; akanami94 and kubosz for your favorites, and kubosz, LordTheadArmageddon and thee-cats-meow for your follows. I appreciate it.**

**Please enjoy this next chapter of Illogically Logical.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Cover Credits go to Hopiamanipopcorn from deviantART.**

Illogically Logical by boasamishipper

Act Two, Part 2

_Bolin was debating the benefits of paying one of the newbies to do his paperwork about their latest mission when he heard a knock on the door, followed by someone saying, "2__nd__ Lieutenant Lieng?"_

_Much to his surprise, he looked up to see Sergeant Kimiri standing in the doorway of his quarters. "Sergeant Kimiri," he said kindly, took off his reading glasses and put them to the side. "How can I help you?"_

"_Permission to speak freely, sir?"_

_Bolin nodded, brows furrowed in curiosity. "Yes, go ahead."_

_Kimiri rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly and took a step closer to Bolin's desk. "Sir, this is—this may seem a…a bit strange. It—it's about Corporal Yuhan."_

Ah. _Bolin understood immediately—he and Chouko had been meaning to discuss things about Yuhan at a later date. They'd both noticed him giving Kimiri the cold shoulder since she'd arrived, and it was plainly obvious why: he didn't like the fact that Colonel Jiang had replaced Riya so easily. "You're wondering why he's giving you a hard time."_

_Kimiri nodded quickly. "Y-yes, sir," she admitted. "It's just—well, I've done nothing wrong to him. At least, I don't _think_ I have, and yet, he—he treats me badly. I don't know what I've done to him, and, well, I was hoping that you did."_

"_Mila." She gave a start at her first name—understandably, of course. He wasn't sure the last time he'd heard his own first name without it sounding awkward or coming from his brother's letters. "It's nothing you've done, trust me. It's just—well…" He paused, trying to think of how to phrase it. "You are aware why you've been asked to join Lieutenant Chouko's convoy, correct?"_

"_Yes, sir. Because Colonel Jiang requested me…and to replace PFC Riya Sami."_

"_Yuhan and Riya were pursuing a romantic relationship—you've probably heard about it too. If I know Yuhan as well as I think, then I believe that he wanted to marry her someday. But…she died, recently, as you know, and he's not very happy that Colonel Jiang found a replacement for her. Nothing against you, of course!" he added quickly. "I think that if you give him some time, he'll warm up to you. He's just going through a tough time right now."_

_Kimiri nodded slowly. "Should I give him some space?"_

"_Yes and no."_

"_Sir?"_

"_Give him time to grieve, but I want you to make an impression on him—show him that you're different from Riya. He'll warm up to you, I promise. He's a very nice guy."_

"_Yes, sir." The sergeant's cheeks flushed. "Is Corporal Yuhan the one that started calling you 'Three Continents', sir?"_

_Bolin rolled his eyes, because that just _had _to come up. Even Colonel Jiang had heard of his new nickname by now. "Yes. His sense of humor is impeccable, too. But Tue and La, he can't come up with a freaking decent nickname to save his life."_

_Kimiri laughed. "Lieutenant Chouko keeps saying how it'll be written on your tombstone someday, sir."_

"_Knowing Chouko, he'll see to that someday," Bolin grumbled. He tilted his head to the side. "Is that all, Sergeant? Are the others treating you well?"_

"_Oh, yes, sir. Iko and Jiao-long are alright, and so are you and Lieutenant Chouko. It was just Yuhan I was wondering about, but…well, thanks for the advice, sir. I'll take it into account."_

"_No problem, Sergeant. Come see me anytime, alright? I'll be here."_

"_Yes, sir. Thank you." She gave him a crisp salute and marched out of his office. He sighed, leaning back in his chair. Spirits, he hoped that Yuhan and Kimiri could learn to get along. Playground mediation was really more Chouko's style than his._

Bolin didn't have to see Asami's smug grin to know that his new roommate was happy to see Saikhan cringing in her presence like he'd been kicked in the nuts. "Spirits, Chief, when are you going to start warning me about _her_ coming?" the captain asked, a whiny tone in his voice. "And why are you letting him come too?"

"Because," Beifong practically growled, "as the _chief of police,_ I am in charge of whom I'd like to investigate crime scenes. It is my city, my precinct, and my list of people that I trust to solve murders, and if you'd rather not get along with Ms. Sato and Dr. Lieng, then I'd be happy to take your name off my list. Have I made myself perfectly clear, Captain Saikhan?"

Saikhan looked like he'd rather be on the receiving end of a root canal as he muttered with his ears bright red, "Yes, ma'am."

Asami's upper lip curled in disgust as she looked over at Officer Song, who was making his way toward the group of police personnel outside Jaida's apartment. "Great, what's _he _doing here?" she inquired of Beifong. "I thought you said that you had him transferred."

"I had his _position_ transferred," corrected Beifong. "Unfortunately, I can't kick him out of the precinct without finding someone to replace him first, so Officer Song will still be with us for a while. I told him to consider himself lucky."

Song finally made it through the throng of people, and planted himself between Asami and Beifong, both of whom looked vaguely uncomfortable. "Hello again, Chief, Ms. Sato," Song said, sounding a bit winded. "Sorry to keep you waiting for so long—traffic really wouldn't let me get through. And I'm really sorry about letting the murderer go—"

"Yeah, well, you can stuff your sorries in a sack, Officer Song," Beifong interrupted him. "You should consider yourself damn lucky that you even have your job secured."

Song nodded so fervently that Bolin had to suppress the image of the officer as a bobble-head doll. "Yes, ma'am, I—I know, and if there's anything I can do—"

Asami held up her hand, and Song's broken apologies crashed into each other. "Save it," she said with contempt. "I have about as much use for you and Captain Saikhan as the world does for a near-sighted gynecologist. But Chief Beifong is the jurisdiction around here, as much as it pains me to say it. If she wants you to stay, then there's nothing I can do about it. I could probably pull some strings and get you fired from every well-respecting job in the city—not that they'd take you anyways—"

"Are you just going to let her talk to me like that, Chief?" Song demanded of Beifong, who looked both offended and mildly amused.

As entertaining as the conversation was, Bolin felt that he had to intervene before someone was arrested on the charges of attempted murder. "Alright, alright, ladies," he said mildly. "Knock it off, will you? You're both beautiful. Now, I believe that we have an actual murder to solve?"

"Quite correct, Doctor," Asami chimed in, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her trench coat. For a second, she looked vaguely impressed, but it had to have been a trick of the light. He'd only known her for two days and yet he already knew that Asami Sato wasn't the type to be impressed by a simple comeback. "Beifong, where's the body?"

Beifong jerked her head in the direction of the apartment complex. "In there," she said shortly. "Come on." She set off at a brisk walk toward the building, flashing her badge at one of the officers on duty. Asami walked after Beifong, her stride long enough that she easily caught up with the chief in a few steps, whereas Bolin ended up jogging after them, trying to keep up without straining himself.

"Here we are," Beifong stated once they reached the landing. The door was wide open, despite most of the apartment having been sealed off with caution tape. A few forensics officers were taking pictures of the body and bagging evidence.

The room was practically empty of furniture except for a couch and a coffee table in the far right corner. Metal crossbars held up part of the ceiling near a large window, next to which an area was sealed off—presumably by the forensics officers who were either searching for more clues or wanted an area to rest.

Bolin swallowed heavily as he caught sight of Jaida's body lying face down on the bare floorboards in the middle of the room. He couldn't shake the image of her being alive, and breathing, and even _flirting _with him less than twenty-four hours ago to this…this empty shell of a human being. "Spirits," he murmured.

Asami gave him a quick look that bordered on sympathy and indifference. "Surreal, isn't it?"

"No," Bolin answered quietly. "Just thought…it's been a while since a person that I actually knew was dead." _Not since Chouko,_ he recalled, trying not to wince at the memory of his commanding officer's blood on his hands._ And you're not going to have a breakdown in the middle of a crime scene. Pull yourself together. _"I'm fine."

Jaida wore the same outfit that she'd been wearing the night before—a short blue skirt, a tank top, and brown high heels—even though dried blood decorated her shirt and an ivory sash was tied around her waist, just like TongXing. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her face was frozen in a seemingly horrified expression…almost as if she'd seen who the killer had been.

Asami walked a few steps closer to Jaida and then stopped, holding one hand out in front of herself as she focused on Jaida's body. The three of them stood there silently for several long seconds, and then all at once Asami looked over at Beifong as if the chief had personally offended her.

"Shut up," the consulting detective announced, speaking it as though it were a suggestion even though it was phrased more like an order.

"I didn't say anything," Beifong refuted, sounding startled.

"It's not what you said. It's what you thought," Asami amended, sounding as though this was a conversation she'd had many times with the chief of police before. "Stop thinking. It's annoying."

Beifong rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Asami made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat as she studied Jaida with the same expression of an archaeologist inspecting the ancient ruins of Taku.

"Anyways," Bolin said, unable to stand the tension any longer, "have you gotten anything from Jaida? As much as I can tell, if the killer hasn't broken any patterns of his, then she's probably been drugged."

Asami nodded. "Very true. Not much else to tell besides that she's obviously married—the ring on her finger signifies that it's about a year or two old, not very many scratches. Even if there wasn't a ring, it'd be obvious. Her ring finger has a slight tan line, if you remove the ring, see?" She knelt down and worked the ring off Jaida's finger, carelessly placing it on the coffee table. "She hit on you last night, she's dead now. Had to be in a committed relationship for that chain of events to occur, didn't it?"

"True," Bolin said, filing away the information for later. He suspected that Asami already had, so he turned to Beifong. "Chief, have you had any progress on finding out which drug killed TongXing and the others?"

"Not entirely," the older woman admitted, running a hand through her short grey hair. "We've mostly been going over the victims' medical records."

"Find anything interesting?" Asami inquired, still kneeling next to Jaida and examining the ivory sash around her waist.

"Yes, actually," Beifong announced, and Bolin tilted his head, interested. Even Asami twisted around, seemingly eager to use the chief's information to add another piece to the puzzle. "After examining the records of TongXing, Nilak, Korei, and Hideki, Officer VinJi discovered that each of the victims suffered from hemophilia—the disorder where your blood doesn't clot normally, you know. Pretty rare, from what he told me. Bumping someone in the stairway could be fatal."

Bolin wrinkled his nose, and then something suddenly struck him. "Hang on. Since each of the victims weren't stabbed or anything that explains the blood on their clothes, and since there aren't any drugs that cause internal bleeding, then…then whatever drug that the killer drugged their drinks with has to be something that boosts blood-thinning ability and raises the risk of internal bleeding. Like, one good dose will leave you bleeding internally and dead within an hour or two."

"Any examples, Bolin?" Asami asked.

"Yeah, um, there's Warfarin—that's Coumadin, technically—or azole antifungals, maybe, but…no. Definitely Coumadin," Bolin said, sure of himself. "I'm positive it's Coumadin."

Asami stood up, beginning to pace furiously around the room. "I'll take your theory a step further, Doctor. Suppose the killer _knew_ that his victims all had hemophilia. He must've had access to their medical records somehow."

"So what, you're suggesting he's a doctor?" Beifong asked curiously.

"No," Asami corrected, halting in her pacing, "I'm suggesting that he works part-time as a bartender, but he has a variety of medical knowledge that he uses to kill people, right? Maybe he's a pharmacist, or studying to be one. That would explain how he has access to their medical records and the medicine used to kill TongXing and the others."

"That's brilliant!" Bolin praised her, his eyes wide with excitement over the case. "Chief, when you dig through Jaida's records, let us know if she was a hemophilia sufferer, alright? Anything out of the ordinary in her medical records too—write it down."

Beifong nodded. "I'll get Officers VinJi and Jaya on it, Dr. Lieng."

The corner of Asami's mouth curled up in an interesting half smile. "And you say you're not prepared for this," she commented, seemingly casual.

The tips of Bolin's ears flushed bright red, but he said nothing.

"Alright, I'll break up the medical discussion for now," said Beifong, looking amused with the both of them and a bit happy that the case's information was all falling into place. "We can continue this after you talk to TongXing's husband and child, alright, Asami? And like I said, please be nice to them. I don't care if the case is underway, the fact remains that they're still people and need to be treated with respect. Got it?"

Asami rolled her eyes and mockingly saluted the chief. "Ma'am, yes, ma'am." She turned to Bolin. "Come on, Bolin," she said, beginning to walk out of the apartment and down the stairs. Bolin followed her. "I can get us a ride to the precinct faster than us waiting around in Beifong's car for traffic to ease up."

"By taxi, you mean?"

"No. A member of my homeless network runs a rickshaw operation. Cheap, ride's a bit bumpy, but he runs like the wind. We call him the Breeze for a reason." Asami smiled, looking almost fond. She turned up the collar of her trench coat and looked over at him. "Are you alright with that?"

Bolin's mind was still trying to wrap itself around the fact that a homeless man was going to take them to the Republic City Police Department by way of rickshaw. "Your…homeless network?"

"Yes. To put it plainly, my homeless network is an interconnected organization of vagrants all over the city that provide me with information about my latest cases in exchange for a yuan a day and ten yuans for a vital clue. My eyes and ears, frankly."

"Huh." As they made it outside the apartment complex and began walking toward an alleyway, Bolin tried to picture Asami making friends with tramps and practicing quid pro quo with them. It wasn't as hard as he thought it would've been. _So she's a consulting detective with archenemies and a homeless network full of bribed hoboes. Well—isn't that just something?_

Asami put two fingers in her mouth and let out a piercing whistle, causing half of the police officers at Jaida's apartment to startle and look over in confusion. Bolin squinted as he saw a pinpoint in the distance racing toward the two of them. "That him?" he asked.

"Indeed it is, Bolin," Asami confirmed, smiling at the tramp as he came to a full halt. "Breeze! It took you nearly fourteen point sixty-eight seconds to arrive," she said in a scolding tone. "You went over your record by six point two seconds. What's with the delay?"

"Been busy, ma'am. Ain't easy to be the only rickshaw operator in the city," the Breeze panted. He raised an eyebrow once he caught sight of Bolin, who felt uncomfortable. "Who's the guy?"

"This is a colleague of mine, Dr. Bolin Lieng. Bolin, this is the Breeze," Asami introduced crisply. "Breeze, how fast will it take you to take us to the Republic City Police Department?"

"Depends, ma'am, on how much you're willin' to spend on the likes of me," the Breeze countered, waggling his eyebrows. "Twenty yuans will getcha there in ten minutes."

"Fifteen yuans," Asami negotiated, "and a free meal over at the Risha Deli."

"That'll do," the Breeze nodded, and cocked his head to the side. "Say, Doc, do you think you'd be willing to tell me the time?" He inched closer, and Bolin fought the urge to push him away. Not only was the Breeze trying to pull a trick on him, he smelled like a badgermole had crawled into his clothes and died. "I'm a bit hard of sight."

"He's not stupid enough to fall for that hat trick, Breeze," Asami instantly refuted, rolling her eyes. "Get hitched to your rickshaw. We've got a meeting to make."

"Oh, then? A meeting? Is the Doc gonna help ya with that? Must be some meeting."

"You know, I _am_ right here, you two," Bolin said, a bit irritated with the tramp, but not to the point that he'd been with Saikhan, Song, or Asami's unnamed enemy. The Breeze was more like a nuisance, like a mosquito-fly that kept buzzing around Bolin's ear. "Can we get going?"

"Feisty." The Breeze whistled, long and low before seeming to sober up. "Alright. Yuans up front or upon destination?"

"Up front." Asami dug into the pocket of her coat and slapped down three crumpled five yuan bills into the Breeze's hand. "This'll do, yeah?"

"It'll do. Hop aboard." The Breeze stuffed the yuans in the pocket of his pants and grabbed the handles of the rickshaw as Asami and Bolin both climbed aboard, clinging to the sides to avoid falling off. With a grunt, he lifted the handles off the ground and took off at a run.

The ride was bumpy, like Asami had warned, but it was fast and smooth going around the corners, much better than any rickshaw ride he'd taken in years. Bolin grinned as the wind rushed through his hair, blowing it in ten different directions. Asami's hair blew backwards, and her green eyes were bright and calculating as she looked around. _Probably trying to figure out the case…Spirits knows I'll be no help with that. I'll leave her be._

In what seemed like no time at all, the Breeze had pulled up to the police station, panting so heavily that it looked and sounded as though he'd just had to run three marathons back to back with no water. "…here…ya…are," he managed to get out before dropping the handles to the ground and collapsing against the rickshaw. "…can I…cash in that…meal at…R-Risha's…n-now?"

"Just say I sent you and you'll get three full courses," Asami said, somehow managing to look regal while climbing out of the rickshaw. Bolin hoped he didn't look like an idiot as he followed her. "Owner owes me a favor."

"Does everyone in Republic City owe you a favor, Asami?" Bolin asked in wonder.

After a moment, she shook her head. "Not quite, Dr. Lieng. Out of everyone in Republic City varying on different sectors of socioeconomic status, then I'd say that about…three-sevenths of the population owes me a favor."

"Three-sevenths?" Bolin repeated, his eyes twinkling in amusement. "And here I was preparing to be impressed."

Asami rolled her eyes. "Don't be glib, Bolin, it doesn't suit you." She patted the Breeze on the shoulder once, and began walking up the stairs to the police station.

Bolin took a look back at the Breeze, who was still panting and gasping on top of his rickshaw, and shrugged. "You okay?" he asked the homeless man awkwardly, not really sure how to continue on the conversation from that point on.

"…f-fine," the Breeze managed to cough out before giving him a nonchalant wave, as if telling him to get lost. "G-go…after…Ms. Sato…she's up there…waitin' for…ya."

Bolin whirled around, only to see Asami impatiently gesturing at him from the top of the steps. _Huh. Figured she'd already be inside. Why'd she wait for me? She didn't have to…_ "Alright. Thanks for the ride…and, um, take a break for the rest of the day, or at least several hours, drink plenty of fluids, and if you have sore muscles or if anything hurts tomorrow I'll write you a prescription for Hydrocodone."

The Breeze simply waved him off again, and Bolin set off up the steps, following Asami into the police station. A brown-haired man wearing a red tunic, gray pants and sandals stood in the entranceway, a baby girl perched on his hip. "My name is Kuzon," he said, a Fire Nation lilt in his voice, along with an unmistakable tone of sadness. "This is my daughter, Zia." _He's bringing his infant daughter to a meeting to discuss his husband's murderer? Spirits, and I thought Asami had issues._ "I—I know I shouldn't be…be bringing her here, but it's our nanny's day off, and I couldn't find anyone to watch her, and—"

"It's alright." Bolin whirled around in surprise to see Beifong standing solemnly behind him. Asami didn't appear to be perturbed. "Mr. Kuzon, thank you for coming down here. My condolences on your husband's passing—I promise that we're working as hard as we can to find out who did it."

Kuzon nodded, his eyes beginning to blur with tears. He shifted Zia up higher on his hip. "Thank you, Chief Beifong. I—I really appreciate that." He glanced over at Asami and Bolin, and the doctor felt as though he was being X-rayed under Kuzon's intense gaze. "Are these your detectives, Chief Beifong?"

"Spirits, no." Asami shook her head, her hair bouncing on her shoulders as she did so. "My name is Asami Sato," she said evenly. "I'm a consulting detective for the Republic City Police Department. This is my colleague, Dr. Bolin Lieng, before whom you can speak as freely as before myself."

"Yes, ma'am," Kuzon said, shaking Asami's hand, then Bolin's. "And Mr. Lieng, correct?"

"_Doctor_ Lieng, actually," Bolin corrected.

"Mr. Kuzon," Beifong interrupted, "Ms. Sato and Dr. Lieng are going to ask you a few questions about your husband, alright? Please know that however…" She paused. "However _invasive_ Ms. Sato will be, it's all in the matter of figuring out this case."

Asami scoffed and opened her mouth, presumably to insult Beifong, but Bolin elbowed her in the side. "Think about the case," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth before smiling at Kuzon, who looked about as confused as Beifong did.

The consulting detective merely shrugged. "Follow me," she said abruptly before walking off toward a hallway with a sign by it that read 审讯室 on it. Kuzon, carrying Zia, set off after her, and Bolin was about to do the same when Beifong grabbed his arm.

"Dr. Lieng," she said, "please try and keep her from doing anything drastic." Before he could ask her to clarify, she elaborated. "Last witness she talked to ended up swearing at her for about an hour because she deduced his entire family history of alcoholism and child abuse in less than five minutes. The one before that ran away screaming lunacy after half an hour."

Bolin winced. He didn't have to try very hard to picture that: it definitely seemed like something Asami would do. "I'll—I'll try my best, Chief."

Beifong grimaced. She looked like she was about to say something else, perhaps give him some advice or another warning, but refrained and walked away.

As Bolin strode to the room that Asami and Kuzon had gone into, he couldn't help but wonder just how this meeting with TongXing's husband was going to go. _It can't be as bad as Beifong's making it out to be. That's just ridiculous. Sure, Asami's probably not going to be all 'I can be your shoulder to cry on' with this guy, but I doubt she's going to insult him or deduce him to the point of lunacy._

As he pushed open the door, he saw Asami pacing the length of the interrogation room with her hands behind her back. "So, Mr. Kuzon," she said casually, "has your family interacted with any pharmacists that remind you of serial killers lately?"

Bolin groaned.

**To be continued...**

**-Boa :)**


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